Greener Pastures
by TheRushHour
Summary: "Beating yourself up is never a fair fight," Gray inhaled another stream of smoke from the cigarette dwindling between his loose lips. "And you're too good for that, baby."
1. Safety Zones

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: This story will start out T and eventually turn into M for more mature themes. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Safety Zones**

"Make sure the basket doesn't get too heavy," Claire warned as she covered their leftovers from dinner in clear wrap. "We need to be able to carry it all the way to your house."

"Nana said she needed more flour."

She balanced three bowls in her hands and kicked the fridge open. "It's in the corner, right over there," she motioned her head towards the furthest end of the kitchen.

Stu hoped down the stepladder and watched the tiles as he walked over, making sure he only stepped on the blue squares.

The two of them were preparing a basket for Ellen that Stu wanted to gift her with. Today was her birthday, and the middle of winter didn't provide for the greatest variety of fresh produce or herbs. The two of them made it work with milk and several bags of wool from Claire's sheep that grew like weeds in the colder seasons. Ellen would certainly enjoy spinning the wool into yarn and dying them into her choice of colors.

He dragged out a package of flour and it made a solid _poof _as it fell to the floor. Stu hauled it between his small arms and Claire shut the refrigerator to help him out, but he whined and insisted he was strong enough to do it on his own. She let him carry it to the counter and showed him how to properly transport the powder.

She fetched a plastic bag from under the sink and joined him as he stood, nearly bouncing on the steps.

"We don't want this to get all over or else your grandma would get upset. What you need to do," she whipped the bag in the air to open it fully. "Is carefully put the flour in here so it's safe."

Stu slowly dropped the heavy package into the plastic bag and watched as Claire loosely tied it up and made it into a handbag. She brushed her hands together, fixed her hair that was falling from its ponytail, and glanced at the stove for the time.

"We'd best get ready, bud."

He hopped off and raced to the coat rack and looked around for all of his belongings. There were toys he always left here that laid in a special basket by the couch, but some days he'd bring a little something extra to carry back and forth.

While he did that, she wiped down the counters, rinsed the rag out, and tidied up the living room. The television was still playing his cartoons and she clicked it off. He started rambling about the episode and how he'd already seen it a few times with Elli.

She smiled and helped him put on his gloves to make sure that each finger went where they belonged, tucked his pant legs into his socks before stuffing them in his light-up boots, rolled his hat above his eyes, helped put his coat on and zipped it up.

It was the middle of winter and the town has recently been hit with an icy blizzard that left everything with a burning chill and crunchy ice. Stu enjoyed eating this kind the most.

Slipping on her own padded boats and thick coat, she grabbed her purse and Ellen's gifts. "Which one do you want to carry?" she held up the basket of wool and the box of milk bottles while moving the bag of wrapped flour down to her elbow.

"That one!" he pointed at the milk.

"You sure? It'll get really cold when we go outside."

He nodded profusely, "I have my gloves on."

She showed him how to carry the box and warned him to be very careful and not break or shake them up. When he promised not to, she adjusted her grip on the gifts a final time, and they left her house.

Once the front door was locked, they marched through the tall, icy snow.

"Make sure you don't lose your boot," she advised. It was easier than it had been this morning as they retraced their already-made foot-holes that embellished the snow. Stu made a game about it and enjoyed switching from his tiny ones to her adult-sized prints.

On the way, they met Manna and Duke, who were going to visit Basil and his wife. They walked up the street together.

"Oh, I just love the way the moon makes the snow sparkles!" Manna giggled, pressing a furry-gloved hand to her rosy lips.

"I like how no one could see you if you threw a snowball at them!" Stu laughed. "One time I did that to May."

The couple laughed and Claire started to lag behind them. They were all friendly towards each other, but her instincts kicked in and held her back from being involved in their conversation. The mere thought of adding comments caused her heart to race.

Duke patted the younger boy's hat, "This thing is snazzy. Where'd ya get it?"

"My Nana made it for me. She knits a lot. One time, she knitted me a hat and I accidentally put it in the laundry with my sisters stuff and it turned pink and shrunk so she had to make me a new one."

Manna smiled, "I like this one. It has neat zigzags in it."

"Yeah, it's cool," he agreed and waited a moment, turning towards Claire. "Why're you going slow?"

"I'm just enjoying the snow, is all," she reassured him.

"How's your farm holding up in this weather?" Duke asked, his well-gelled hair gleaming with the streetlight.

Her throat tightened, "Fine. I tend to my animals more."

"I bet they produce better milk," he motioned towards the box in Stu's hands.

"Sure," she agreed, though, that wasn't always true. Stu took back control of the conversation, much to Claire's relief, and went on about how it was his grandma's birthday, how his sister baked a cake for them to share when he got back.

As they reached the library, Stu quickly said goodbye to the couple and kept walking. Claire bid them a simple farewell by waving, but Manna put a hand on her shoulder. They were both tiny women and it wasn't a stretch, unlike the height of her six-foot husband or supermodel friends, "Wait, Claire."

Manna exchanged a look with her husband, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"You look tired. Are you sick?"

"No, I'm…" she looked at how far ahead Stu was getting. "I've gotta go before I lose him. Have a good evening, you two."

The snow crunched under her fleeting steps as she raced to reach the kid. He was in his front yard, carefully making his way up the stoop. Since his hands were all full, he waited for the farmer to make her way up and open the door herself.

A wave of warmth covered them, along with happy greetings from both Elli and Ellen inside. The smell of vanilla and baked goods was heavy and made Stu even more excited. Each of them made sure to stomp as much snow off of their boots as possible before making it in and closing the door.

Stu unceremoniously got out of his garments, one by one, letting them stay soaked on the wood floor and carefully making it over to his grandma.

"Happy birthday, Nana!" he screamed, plopping the gift down on her lap. The older woman cooed with joy and clapped her hands, taking out each of the bottles and inspecting them with grace.

Elli helped Claire at the door to put all of Stu's cold and wet attire by the fireplace. As they finished and she placed the basket of wool on the tabled, along with flour on the counter, she turned to face a smiling nurse.

"How was he?"

They both admired him and their grandma in the corner, looking at the milks and listening to how Stu explained watching Claire milk the cows that afternoon.

"He was great, as usual."

"Yeah? That's good," she ruffled with her choppy, dusty brown hair. "How are you?"

"I'm alive," she kept her eyes glued on Ellen.

"Just alive?"

Claire crossed her arms as she became more self-conscious, "Isn't that enough?"

"It's a start," she reasoned.

The blonde swallowed something thick in her throat, "It's been rough lately."

Elli leaned on the counter and blocked their view of the others across the cottage, giving the two of them privacy, "Anything happen in particular?"

"I, uh," she looked at the floor and traced the tile pattern with her eyes. "I'm not sure."

Elli was well aware of Claire's state. Being the town nurse, fiancée to doctor, and on top of that, her best friend, it was easy to keep up with her well-being.

The doctor had been her therapist for three seasons now, and her depression still lingered and put a stop to normal life activities someone her age should be doing. Elli loved Claire whole-heartedly and was grateful for their friendship everyday, because Elli was not naive enough to think that every day was a guarantee with her.

"How are you?"

"I'm really great," Elli smiled sadly. "I wish you could say the same."

"I'm sor–"

"Don't apologize to me, Claire!" she hissed and swatted her arm. "Come on, let's have cake. I want to see you smile tonight."

"I can't," she looked at the old grandfather clock they had. "I have an appointment tonight."

"Claire, sweetheart," Ellen called from her rocking chair. Each of them looked up and out of their corner. Stu had brought the milk to an end table and was washing his hands, getting ready for the celebration.

She excused herself from Elli and walked over, hugged Ellen for a long time and pulled away.

"Happy birthday, Ellen."

"Thank you," she made a motion at the gifts. "For everything. I am very excited to be able to make more things now. You look like you need a scarf."

"Yeah? Well, it's my pleasure, really."

Her wrinkles relaxed and her old eyes searched into Claire's heavy ones. They shared a moment of silence that often loomed over them, the kind of silence that spoke louder than words between them could. It was knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.

Ellen reached out and cupped one of Claire's calloused hands in her own, "Tell me you're staying for cake and tea."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I have to go to for an appointment."

Sadness and disappointment lowered her soft smile, "How am I ever going to thank you for all of these lovely things if you always run off before I can stuff your belly?"

She smiled sadly, "I'm sorry. Another time, I promise."

"I am holding you to that, dear."

Claire bent down and pecked her wrinkled cheek and wished her a happy birthday one last time before backing away towards the door.

Stu bolted out of his seat and shouted at her to wait and have cake with them, which made her even gloomier to have to leave them. She just crouched down to his level and hugged him close, telling him how she would see him another day.

The last thing she caught sight of before leaving was the kitchen, where her best friend was frowning with arms folded.

She took a deep breath once she was alone outside and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She knew Elli was supportive of her, more than anyone else had been on her in her entire life, but she knew it was difficult to watch her always shy away and back down from social events. It was hard to go places without a best friend. Claire knew that. It was hard to stay at home, too.

The walk was short and the dim light from the clinic welcomed her in. Dr. Trent was behind the front desk on the computer, typing things away. When the bell chimed, he looked up and greeted his last patient of the day with a warm, sincere smile, "Hello, Claire."

She returned a grin and made her way to the private room that had comfy chairs and two loveseats. Her coat fell from her shoulders and she slung it over the rack and carefully made her way to her normal spot on a loveseat, tucked in the corner that was clear of any awkward decorative pillows and blankets.

Trent followed her in, his lab coat and stethoscope gone. He was in black slacks and a gray button down, still looking very formal. He seemed to be having a good day, as far as she could tell from the few fleeting moments of analyzing him. He took his usual seat and cleared his throat.

"How are you doing today?"

"I'm alive."

"What did you do?"

Claire kept her eyes on the floor and she recalled the day's events, from watching Stu and tending to her animals, making them food and gathering presents for Ellen. Nothing the doctor deemed important enough to go into depth about aside from asking how she was left feeling.

"Empty. I feel bad," she frowned. "Not from today. I feel awful lately, like there's this heavy blanket on my skin that's just kind of suffocating me."

"What do you think it's from, what's caused it?"

She shrugged, "No idea. I'm stumped. Physically, I feel dreadful. It's like... how my mind was feeling has now spread all over, like I am tired with the kind of exhaustion that can't be cured with sleep."

The chair moaned as he leaned back in it, "Have you been doing anything to pacify that feeling?"

"I've tried sleeping, exercising, being with Elli or Stu. It still stays with me."

"I meant, have you done anything different?"

She looked up, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he met her eyes. "Sometimes, when we are stuck in comfortable routine, along the way we realize that it's not that comfortable at all. It hurts us more than helps us, and with you, I think you might need a new agenda."

"Like what?" she shifted, curious and intrigued.

"Like, you could change things around. You could start trying to go out more. You could bring Elli if you need to, to start out, but as you gradually get to feeling more safe and adventurous, you could go alone and branch out to more people."

The thought of having to be more social made Claire visibly cringe and sink deeper into the cushions.

Trent took a few steps back to explain why socializing was important to her health and improving on her emotions. He talked about the possibilities of meeting more people, being able to experience more emotions, unbiased experiences and words with strangers that could potentially be new and exciting.

"And I know all of this is easy to talk about. No one expects you to be perfect the first few times, and it will be hard. Being able to socialize with others is a key skill in life, and it's like riding a bike. You've gotta practice to get better at it. You're bound to fall off and hit the ground before you get the hang of it."

Claire nodded.

She expressed how she thought it might be awkward to start branching out when the town was already as small as it was and the people had their pre-made assumptions about her. He reminded her that everyone's opinions and judgment are open for change. Nothing in life was set in stone.

"I…" she played with her ponytail and tried to gather up the right words. "I'm afraid. I don't like people. When I'm around them, I feel overwhelmed, like my mind is absorbing all of them and it makes me go numb."

"A side effect of this depression, if you will," he added air-quotations while he said _side effect_, "Is that you will feel things more strongly for the rest of your life. You'll feel others' pain more acutely than anyone else. You'll feel stranger's pain as if it were your own. It's something we can talk about more next time."

She glanced at the clock, and sure enough, their session was coming to a close. She stood and gathered her coat and Trent left her with some last words and scheduled their next session. In the meantime, he asked her to work on getting out of her "funk" by the methods they discussed.

The lonely farmer was back outside and standing on the icy stoop before too long. The moon was higher, the sky was darker, and the streets were bare of people.

After the sessions, Claire always felt strongly about things. It ranged from rock bottom beatings to giggling fits. Strangely, though stricken with fear, she was filled with a new feeling of adrenaline.

Meeting people was something she dreaded. She avoided it at all costs. It was not something that came naturally to her, despite the world's expectations. Dr. Trent was right, though. Her routines were comfortable. They made her feel safe because she knew what to expect.

Her routines bubbled her in like a test answer and she became extremely accustomed to her surroundings and normal situations, and to the people who she allowed in.

What she avoided, what she'd denied herself the opportunities to experience, were things she'd long ago convinced herself were for her own good. When she was in her environment, she was contented. She had control and a sense of security.

It came with a severe lack of spark. Her days were lifeless and boring in blunt honesty. She was a caretaker to her friends and that was it. The only time she felt taken care of was in therapy.

_What about feeling like an equal?_ She wondered. Was there a possibility of a friendship out there, beyond her loving Elli, Ellen, and Stu, that she could have a sense of being an equal being to?

Claire started walking when the cold began eating her face.

She came in contact with a lot of bodies, handshakes, smiles, laughter, and friendly moments, but a friend was something different. Making a friend―was it making or allowing? She didn't know.

There had been a lot of different ways that they had started and some of them seemed pretty vague. Sometimes, it had been a smile that she didn't expect and didn't know she needed. Sometimes, it had been a slow build, sometimes a chase, but there was usually a moment where it came into focus: a pat on the back, and invitation, a secret. Then there it was, she had a friend.

Recalling times in her past when once upon a time, she let those kinds of things happen, she could feel that moment in her face all over again. It was as if she were trying to hold her mouth in place. Like a smile, but she didn't want to react too much, didn't want to ruin it. A flush, and maybe some more fear.

She could be pretty awkward sometimes, especially if she cared about something. She didn't know why exactly, but thinking about it all, walking home in the moonlit night, made her sad.

She stopped under and streetlight, brushed off a snowy bench and sat down.

She thought that maybe it was because when she looked harder at something so essential, she was scared by how much she'd overlooked or neglected it.

There are some things that she cared about much less but paid a lot more attention to, and stuck in deep thought now with the fear and adrenaline in her, was a reminder to change that.

Claire hunched over and held her face. No one had hurt her in a long time, mostly because she wouldn't let enough people close enough to allow them to give her pain.

She took a deep breath and clutched her face tighter before letting it go and staring at the moon. It was a slim crescent tonight, nearly lost among the flare of stars.

The moon was something she envied. She sulked when she thought about it enough, the ways her father had always mentioned it. He was an angry man, a poor man. He lived on scraps and never learned to trust people. He used people.

There was no note left next to his body when he chose to leave the world on purpose that told her where he was going or why.

Dr. Trent and her had talked about her father a few fleeting times. It was still too painful to vocalize just yet.

She didn't want to dampen her lighter mood and looked back down to the ground, the crushed, dirty snow, covered in dozens of mixed patterned boot prints.

An echo in the distance caused her to look up.

The street in front of her from where she sat at the intersection was home to the inn, where the lights illuminated the street and townsfolk liked to mingle. Before she could realize what she was doing, a very bold Claire that had been hidden in her skin for years came out and was carrying her down the walkway and to the building.

It was easy to walk and go in. A simple act she hadn't done in a long time, and never alone. When she came to her senses, seeing all the faces crowded around tables and the bar, the voices booming, laughing, talking, she froze.

She was already overwhelmed. The amount of people here, fifteen or twenty, were more than she could handle. There were too many. The walls seemed to be shrinking in on her by the second, too, and her breathing accelerated.

Her mind was berating her heavily for making such a rash and stupid decision, and her legs were stuck. She felt like a trapped animal within her own body. It made her sick. She couldn't do this. Not alone. Not any time soon.

Her feet finally responded and she swiveled around, but a hand caught her elbow before she could barge out.

"Howdy, farmer!" a lady shouted. Claire stiffened and turned to face her.

Ann. The most rambunctious and insane woman Claire had ever come to face with. They'd never actually talked, because watching the redhead from afar was enough to tell her to stay away. Ann was a ball of never-ending energy that bounced all over her family's inn, waiting tables and arguing with the kitchen staff.

Claire hadn't responded, but Ann was already dragging her across the room, weaving through occupied tables until settling on one near the stairwell, small and close to the counter.

"How's this?"

_Frightening, awful, stupid, unacceptable_. "Fine."

"What can I getcha?"

She didn't remove her coat because she didn't plan on staying long. She'd race out the moment it was socially acceptable to pay. "A water and a beer, please."

"Gotcha," and she was gone.

Claire sunk into one of the two wooden seats, the one that had her back to the wall and let her watch the people. She continually scolded herself for doing this too soon and alone. It was a bad, bad thing.

She hugged herself, clutched her purse to her stomach, and bit her lip. She hated herself with a passion.

Her eyes stayed on the loudest group of people, a mix of young men and women she didn't recognize. She knew everyone in town, which meant they weren't locals. They didn't look local, either. They were all tanned and boisterous. Not rudely so, but enough to know that they didn't need to have a care in the world over here.

Ann set the drinks in front of her and went to tend to the couple that owned the supermarket. Claire scanned the area for their daughter Karen and sipped religiously on her water.

She left the glass on her lips and gradually relaxed when she realized no one was going to judge her as harshly as she feared for obviously being outside of her element.

She was alone in this crowd. Her perceptions marked her as much as her solo entrance did through the door.

She continued to survey the men and women seated around her on aged wood furniture and she saw what they were trying to escape, watched as one man's bared tattoo on his arms faded away into nothing because they meant nothing, but he was oblivious: lighting each new cigarette from the butt of the last and looking at his friends.

Every time someone looked at her, she could be aware of it if she opened her mind to that feeling, but too often this sensation was like breathing; she did it all the time without thinking about it, so after a while she didn't even recognize it happening.

She sat in that wooden chair and worked on actively avoiding looking at the eyes of the people around her. She took everything in but their eyes.

She was comfortable enough in her corner of solitude to shake off her coat and drape it along the back of the chair. He beer remained untouched and Ann came around twice more to refill her ice water.

Just seeing these people was enough for her. It was a change and exciting in a weird way. It was a step, and a big one as far as she was concerned.

Her focused wandered to the bar, where Ann was laughing loudly with her boyfriend and a few friends. Karen was doing impressions of someone, presumably Rick from their way she pretended to be a chicken at one point. Claire found herself giggling while her lips rested on the brim of the glass.

Then one of them met her gaze. Ann's brother. She felt her cheeks heat immediately, and even more when the man nudged his buddy and nodded towards her.

No. No. No. _No._

It wasn't part of the plan. Her arms came in and she balled up, looking around the room as quickly as possible to find some sort of purchase for her interest.

The moment passed.

Claire blushed more, realizing how horribly she'd reacted to something so simple as eye contact. She scolded herself for being childish.

Strangely enough, Claire found herself looking back and stealing glances at the group for a second time as Ann and Karen led a majority of the conversation.

Claire's eyes drifted to Ann's brother again. His name escaped her. They'd never talked, but she knew he took care of her tools when they needed to be fixed or if she needed new ones.

He was a large built man. Tall, even while leaning over the counter. He had a dirty, worn hat that covered his ginger hair. Everything about him should have screamed _bad_ and _intimidating_.

He didn't, though.

She admired him from afar, mostly his arms that flexed through the old t-shirt he had on. He was _very_ built.

Wanting to admire his face, her gaze wandered up and again, he turned to meet her eyes.

Her heart quickened and she looked away and sipped her water all over again. This time, she giggled and pretended to look at another table.

Waiting another minute to look back, Claire casually scanned over the crowd until she reached the bar. She didn't waste time reading into their group again and went right to him.

He was already looking at her, and for fleeting seconds, they held the contact. Her blush was hot and distracting, and she was self-conscious because of it. He didn't seem to mind in the slightest and winked at her. That immediately caused her to look away and giggle into her drink.

She sucked on a chip of ice to soothe her hot cheeks. Her ponytail was draped over her shoulder and touched her leg, the long locks hiding her expression from him.

It was a game the two of them played happily like children for the next ten minutes. She stopped finding ways to be slick and just plain stared at him, his strong, angled features that would smile, letting her know that he knew she was looking.

So she teased him the same way, letting parts of her face be seen past the ponytail, depending on the angle she was at.

With another sip of water, she took a deep breath. This time she was determined to keep eye contact with him, long enough so that he would have to look away first.

She hated that the simple act took this amount of courage.

Baby steps. It was part of recovery, she told herself. It was about getting better.

She inhaled deeply and lifted her gaze to meet him again.

He wasn't there. He was gone. Her heart pinched. A heavy set of disappointment settled onto her, which was quickly beaten down by resentment towards herself.

How dumb had she been to think this game would go on forever? Claire gnashed her eyebrows together and frowned, upset with herself for being so foolish. She was just looking at a guy, for Goddess' sake. It literally meant nothing. He probably–

"Is this seat taken?" A deep voice interrupted her inner rant.

She stiffened and glared up at the intruder of her private sphere. How the night could get any more embarrassing was beyond her. She didn't need strangers stabbing their way into her safety zone.

The face she was met with was not whose she was expecting.

It was _him_.

Her jaw swung from its hinges like a screen door in the summertime. She was a gaping goldfish. He was a looker from afar, but up this close, being able to smell the smoke and ash on him, eyes shadowed from the brim of his hat, caused her heart to slam on the acceleration double time. He was a strange sort of beautiful.

"I'll take that as a yes?" he chuckled, taking the spare seat only a few degrees away from her. She felt dumber, realizing she hadn't responded to him and had the audacity to stare like an idiot.

"I'm sorry, yes."

"You own that farm down by the creek, don't you?"

She nodded and drank from her water. Her blush was going to be never-ending tonight.

"Gray," he held out an expecting, calloused hand.

Lungs heavy and brain feeling swollen from all the over-thinking she'd done in the past hour, Claire slipped a small hand from her condensation-covered cup and slowly brought it into his.

His skin was warm, rough, and dry. It felt really, _really_ good to have contact with and she watched intently as his larger palm and fingers went from a normal shake to weaving them together and keeping their hands settled on the table, beside her untouched beer the leaked with heavy drops of condensation.

"Yours?"

She went back to his eyes, "What?"

"Your name?" he smirked, amused.

"Claire," she was feeling stupid again. She seemed rude to him already and it irritated her.

"I was just wondering," he played with their connected hands, bringing them closer to him. "If we were going to play this game of cat and mouse all night."

She decided then that his skin _really_ felt great. She happily let him keep her hand while her other carefully put down the water and went to hold the side of her own neck. Her shoulders bounced with a shrug. There wasn't really a way for her to properly respond.

"You don't come here often."

It wasn't a question. She smirked and looked down, "I don't."

"Too many kids to take care of?"

Her eyebrows raised and she met his blue eyes, "Excuse me?"

"Kids? A lucky husband?"

Was he insinuating that she had children? A husband? A _family_?

A strange, choked laugh left her, "No. No, I don't have either."

His smile grew, "Lucky me then. You come in for tools and stuff at the blacksmiths every now and then, don't you?"

She nodded.

"My grandfather owns the place."

"Do you like it there?"

He shrugged, "The old bastard gets grumpier by the day, but hell, I've learned to deal."

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she thought about his answer. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"I guess it doesn't. Yeah, I'm okay with it. It's what I was raised to do and I can't see myself doing anything else," he scooted closer to her. "Now I'll have to keep my eye out for when you pop in though, eh?"

She tried hiding her rosy cheeks by reaching for the water again. "It's wintertime. I don't use tools."

"Shame," his foot touched hers. "Guess you'll have to come in for other reasons, then."

"Like?"

In a second he had leaned so close to her that she could taste his scent. His nose nearly crossed hers as his free arm claimed the back of her seat as he smiled.

Her eyes bugged out. Her body froze and went into hyper-drive, rigid with fear from the proximity of a stranger. She was never this close with anybody. This man knew how to cross boundaries like they were banners at the end of a racetrack.

"Like to see me."

"Oh."

She was tense. Gray stayed close to her, arm casually draped around her chair, crafting a whole new private bubble for them to share.

It took more than a few minutes to get used to the feeling of being affectionate to this standard with a stranger. Something about him wasn't red lights and sirens and danger flags.

It was an ease and familiarity. Could there be familiarity with a person she only shared admiring glances and a handhold with? It certainly seemed so.

People struggled to be friends with Claire because she was awkward. She didn't hold a conversation well.

Gray happily led their talk, easy, like he knew she needed it. Maybe it was painfully obvious how unskilled she was in the field.

Work was an easy topic for them, and it led into a stream of random things.

"You see this?" he let go of her hand and pointed to a pearly scar on his neck. "A vampire bit me once."

She laughed, "Shut up."

"What? You don't believe me? I swear it was a vicious vampire that I fought off with my brute strength." He rejoined their hands. "It was crazy."

"Yeah, okay," she rolled her eyes. Daring, she reached a free hand up and stroked the blemish. "How'd it really happen?"

"My sis was messing around in the kitchen and we got in a fight, and she burned me."

Her jaw dropped, "Oh, my."

"Ann's always been a crazy bitch."

Claire smiled. Her eyes fell from his and drifted down is features to where her hand had floated, just above his peck. He radiated a kind of warmth that was homely.

His nose found a spot in her hair, and he pressed his side to her so that she was rested against his shoulder.

"You know, for a farm girl, you don't smell bad."

She snorted, "Thank you."

"So… you don't come here often."

"I think we established that already."

"I'm just wondering why now."

Her face turned into his broad shoulder and she inhaled deeply. She repeated a calming mantra in her head. "I'm not good with people."

Hot breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "You're good with me." Then laid his lips on her earlobe.

She was aware of the double meaning in his words, but wasn't aware that _he_ caught them.

"Maybe it's just you who's good with me."

"Maybe. But not a lot of people like me," his lips lingered on her jaw now.

Her breathing seemed so much harder to do, "Why's that?"

The arm he had on the back of the chair slipped down and held her waist. Shivers ran up her spine and adrenaline colored her skin. "I'm a selfish man."

Any thoughts she had were erased as their intertwined hands were undone and he crawled up her arm, gently going on the natural curve of her bones until meeting her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Between his hand making its way up and to her face, and his lips inching closer to her own, Claire was a crumbling mess. _No. No. No._

Gray moved his head back slightly and looked at her, his eyes hooded. "Can I tell you something?"

She could do nothing but nod. His stare prowled down her face, coming to a dead stop at her mouth.

"I really, really, _really_ want to kiss you right now."

_Oh, no._ "Uh…"

"I know I shouldn't…and I don't usually kiss…but hell, I want to." He trailed his thumb slowly across her mouth. "I want to find out what your top lip tastes like." He licked his own, "And then compare it to the bottom." He exhaled heavily. "I'm desperate to know if your tongue tastes like that ice you've been sucking on all hour."

Claire's eyes fluttered at his words. "We…I…please," she murmured. "Don't." The word slipped from her softly but it made her stomach clench all the same. She was amazed she had the energy to utter the one syllable at all.

With his eyes still trained on her lips, he asked, "Would it be so bad?"

He leaned in closer, his breath washing over her face like a lusty fog.

Everything in her body was surging towards the gorgeous man in front of her. Her pupils were dilated and her heart was beating so fast that she was glad they weren't far from the clinic.

However, she knew that he was about to cross a line: A huge line that had her sanity written all over it. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Gray," she whispered, in one last-ditch attempt to stop what she knew was inevitable. She had to at least _try_ and fight it, right? "We can't do this."

"I know," he answered, cupping the side of her face while tilting his head. "But I'm tired of safety zones, aren't you?"

Her mind short-circuited.

He moved closer. "Just one taste," he whispered, "Just one. That's all I want."

And then it happened.

* * *

_Please review~_


	2. So Easy

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. This story will start out T and eventually turn into M for more mature themes. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 2: So Easy**

It wasn't long into the next morning when Claire began noticing the small things going wrong in her barn.

She'd milked three of her cows in a stall and noted how their normally wet noses were cracked dry. She walked over to another brown cow, munching on dried grass. Her coat was clean and free of bugs. She didn't face Claire, and her tail was still. Claire inspected the rest of the cattle and decided to skip on milking them. Their health was not up to par to what she was comfortable with.

It was strange. There was plenty of hay in each stall. They had enough warm food steaming from the troughs, plenty of clean water in the buckets. She cuddled some of the sheep and worried why they were acting unhappy, too.

She crossed her arms and watched the animals waddle lethargically around. It could be a funk from the recent storm - even if that was a stretch. But the farmer could find nothing obviously unsettling. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then shoved both hands in her overall pockets.

When she started to wander, the coldest thing suddenly tickled her nose. Her hand went to it. A second... third spot dropped.

She looked up.

In the ceiling was a thick crack in the paneling. The ice had crawled its way through the opening as the tiniest bit of snow trickled like dust down. That was why the barn was colder than normal.

It was not going to be an easy fix. The whole ceiling had seen better days, and as she traced the wood patterns, Claire realized it wasn't something that could be repaired in the dead of winter.

Claire kicked her heels around while thinking of what to do. She could call Gotz, the construction worker, but shelling over a few hundred gold for something that would be gone in a season didn't make sense. She took in her surroundings. There was a ladder hanging on the wall with a majority of her farming tools. It was possible that she could lean it against a ceiling beam and patch up the crack herself. There was a large enough supply in the woodshed to spare for the project.

Rubbing the head of some animals on the way out, she went back into the snow and shuffled to the shed. It always made her scared to enter the thing.

Wood carried a variety of insects that easily found habitat in the logs. Somehow, even through a Mineral Town winter, spiders and ants could thrive.

_Spiders_. She cringed at the thought.

The doors were shut with a block in the middle that she had to slide out and set aside. Sure enough, a few spider webs had collected since her visit inside last week to get firewood.

In the middle of the room was a chopping block and axe stuck in it. She removed each blue mitten and shoved them in her flannel-coat pockets. The woodpile was at different levels along the walls from where she'd taken chunks before. By the wall closest to her, she dragged three pieces out and rolled the pieces near the block.

She rubbed her palms together for heat and friction and the smallest sweat so her palms would stick and have a firm grip on the axe.

It was easy to get the hang of the tool after a couple swings. The wood was dead and sliced easily under her force.

She curled the chunks into her arms and pushed the door open with her side to make it out of the shed, and slowly retraced her indented footsteps to the barn.

The doors were heavy and difficult to maneuver, but she managed without letting one of the cows or sheep venture too close out. The boards fell from her grip and onto the floor near the ladder.

Claire suddenly realized how hard this was going to be on her own.

How was she going to get up the ladder with all of this wood, then balance it all on the beam with her nails and hammer? Was her tiny body even tall enough to reach the distance?

Despite the setbacks of the situation, she knew her animals came first. If she couldn't at least try, then why bother at all? Claire tried being safe as she could be with an old, questionable ladder and a load to carry. She hauled the thing off the hooks on the wall and tried being precise about where to lean it. It was extremely heavy though, and easily controlled her instead.

The cows mooed at her clumsiness.

"You'll thank me for this later," she muttered.

Satisfied with where the thing leaned on the beam, she extended the rails up and locked it into place. She remained as safe as possible and carried each board up on its own, then rested them on the timber. The constant whines and creaking from the thing did nothing to pacify her nerves.

Her lips were chapped from the dust and cold. They burned when she licked them over a dozen times to numb the pain and focused back on getting a hammer and nails.

The pit of her stomach was heavy and churning like a tsunami by the time she gathered all the materials up and was pep talking herself into putting both feet on the shaft. She tested the waters by pressing one foot on it with weight. It wasn't awful, per se, but the groan it made wasn't reassuring, either.

A sheep nuzzled into the ladder and Claire puffed her chest, whined and swiftly launched herself up. It was a wide, flat surface that fit both of her feet side by side.

Cracks that went off across it and she held her breath for a minute.

She gradually exhaled and started to work. Starting at the end furthest from her, Claire grabbed a board, nails, and hammer.

She was too short for it to be anywhere near comfortable. Having to go on her tippytoes was frightening. Each time she positioned the nail, it wiggled and pinched her fingers as the hammer hit. The animals didn't like the loud banging and the sheep were moody and loud. Claire apologized to them. Her fingers were stiff, cold, and her arm was strained from reaching far out.

When she nailed the second board in, her shaky knees still hadn't calmed. One more board would patch up the crack, and it has been just above her, and turning out to be a real struggle.

She put a few nail heads between her chapped lips and positioned the wood, stretching up as far as her small arm-span could.

Two cows were agitated with each other and nudged their bodies below. The distraction got to her.

The plank fell straight down, smacking her right in the forehead. The nails spit from her mouth and she groaned, hand flying to cover the sore area.

The steam of her breath rolled out each whimper.

Her irritation fueled her to finish the job - and quick as possible. She slapped another board down and hammered the thing into place, ignoring the screams her muscles gave out and the throbbing in her head.

Claire put both hands on her hips and looked over her work. It was not a perfect or pretty job. She did a few checks by licking the back of her hand and putting it near the spot to check and see if any cool air was getting in.

Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief and patted herself on the back.

Loud grumbles left her stomach. A good time to have a break and prepare lunch for herself, she thought. The cows and sheep were already a step ahead and munching away on some grub.

She shoved the box of nails in her coat pockets and stuffed the hammer in her sleeve, the head hooked on the outside.

Carefully maneuvering her feet around so she could go down the ladder, one of the protruding nails in the beam caught on the lip of her overall jeans.

It happened fast.

She was yanked back in surprise and lost balance. "Crap!"

At the point when the mid of her feet slid beyond the edge, she protected her head in her crossed arms; braced for impact. Her skull and tailbone took a majority of the fall. Dust clouded around her and none of the animals looked over. The hammer slipped from her sleeve onto the ground.

But her head _hurt._

She swore loudly and curled into fetal position. Her eyes squeezed shut. She was seeing spots.

A wave of nausea flooded over her and her appetite was suddenly gone.

It was so easy to hate herself at moments like this.

Thick tears swelled in the beds of her eyes. _So, so easy_.

It was more than falling. It was about her making the mistake and falling deeper into it because that was the only way she knew how to move around.

The thing about depression, Claire learned after several years, was that it wasn't an ocean to drown in like people said it was. She didn't come up to the surface for sunlight and freedom. Depression was a war trench, a sewage structure; filled with tunnel systems that let her run around to dead ends and filthy swamps, always lower and under the feet of others. It was a labyrinth of suffering.

On the floor of the barn, hunched over like a dying baby, she couldn't get up. Her head was heavy with swelling and a stuffed up mind.

_So stupid. So easy._

_So angry._

Claire fisted her hair at the roots. She was upset that something so petty could spill the poison in her.

Her sobs got heavy and silent. The barn floor smelled bitter and bad. One part of her mind was counting to try to calm down, while the other half was erupting with insults.

This was all pointless. She was overreacting and done with herself.

Despite her numb, spinning head, she rolled over and onto her feet. She spit on the ground and leaned her hands on her knees for support. The blood was rushing in her ears, her heart pounding so real it shook her vision each _thump_. Her throat clogged up. Sobs racked through her and she collapsed back down. The room shouldn't be wobbling, and her spit shouldn't taste acidic.

She knew she had to fight.

She rolled onto her hands and knees, and then crawled to the doors. Hay on the floor dug into her knees and stabbed her palms. Slivers found their way under her skin. She fixed her position and sat against the exit.

The obvious thing to do was calm down.

But each hiccup and suppressed cry made it impossible to take deep breaths.

Her legs were weak and her arms were sweaty. The barn smell was too much and made her headache worse.

Her hands gripped the door handle, and she moaned, struggling to pull her weight up. Her tingly feet were flat on the floor eventually, enough to take a step.

A gust of cold wind hit her by the time she was able to get the door open. Shivers vibrated through her body, but all she wanted to do was get back in the house and sleep. Sleep suddenly seemed like the most amazing thing in the world.

Once she got the door to click shut, Claire held onto the wall as she shuffled baby steps through the snow. More had fallen last night.

The low temperatures were making her head hurt more. It got to the point where she was incapable of focusing on walking from the nausea.

Bile rose up her throat and that was it. In the corner of the barn, she bent over and vomited.

Throwing up made Claire cry – it was an involuntary response. She cried harder, drooling; welling up saliva to spit out as much of the bitter acid as possible.

Spots grew in her vision each time she blinked, still looking down, holding her hair.

She was no longer aware of her surroundings besides the putrid aroma of vomit. Sleep seemed appealing again. Sleep seemed _really_ appealing.

With her knees more than ready to give out, her freezing hand slipped from the paneling. She felt the strain of her eyes rolling to the back of her head, then hitting the wet, icy snow, barely able to breathe with half her face buried in it.

It was soft.

Sleep came easy.

_So easy._

* * *

There was sweat covering her entire body. It was smelly and unpleasant.

Claire rolled her head back and forth. Something was wrapped around her. She felt like a forgotten burrito in the oven. Her eyes were puffy and crusted shut. She took her time to relax and enjoy the heat, the goose bumps awake on her skin, and the smell of goulash garnishing the air.

Goddess, it smelled good. Her rumbling stomach agreed. It whined for a good minute until it was painful, then growled louder. She relented and slowly peeled her eyelids open.

The brightness was too much and she groaned, cowering back into her happy darkness.

"She's making noises again," a gentle voice said.

Footsteps came around, "Could mean she'll be up soon." That voice was a man's.

What was a man doing in her house? Why were people in her house?

She tested the waters again while a hand pressed against her forehead. It was familiar. But it hurt and irritated her raw spot.

One eye twitching open, Claire finally hissed out. "Ouch!"

"There she is."

"Oh, my Goddess!"

Claire was squished into someone.

She groaned, "Elli, stop."

"I can't help it!" she was crying. Claire was confused. "My best friend is alive!"

"Yeah, get used to it," Claire sighed.

Trent chuckled, "How're you feeling?"

Between Elli hugging her to death, her head pounding, the nasty pain in her stomach, and the tight burrito wrap around her, she snorted. "Not the best."

"Understandably so."

"Goddess, Claire. What the heck happened to you today?"

She couldn't take it anymore, "Guys, I'm sweating like a dog and starving."

She relented and opened both eyes while Elli unwrapped her and Trent went into the kitchen. The fireplace was roaring in front of them as they sat in the living room, curled in a dozen blankets.

Elli came around to her front when the last blanket was off, "What happened to you today?"

"Why are you here?"

"We were working when your neighbors from Poultry Farm called and said they'd seen you laying in the snow, not moving for a really long time. Goddess, you have no idea how scared sick I was. And when we found you…" she held her face and whimpered.

Claire was stabbed with a pang of guilt.

Trent walked back over with a bowl filled generously with the goulash and a glass of water with pills. He rubbed his fiancée's back. "Have those pills. They'll make your head feel a bit better."

She nodded and swallowed easily. All she really wanted was the steaming bowl of amazing in front of her. She dove in, not worried about manners in front of her friends. Her tongue burned, as did the roof of her mouth. She didn't care. It was good stuff. She crammed each forkful in her mouth and switched between watching the fire and awkwardly looking at her expecting guests. Trent was the first to speak up.

"It'd help to know… what happened so I–_we_ can treat you properly. It's not every day you find someone face down in the snow with hypothermia in a concussion surrounded by bile."

Elli wiped her nose and looked in her eyes, "How did you get the giant bruise?"

Claire swallowed and put another mouthful in. The day came back to her like a smack in the head. _Oh, crap. _Blush warmed her sweaty face, "I, uh, fell."

"Fell from where? The freaking sky?!" Elli fussed with her short hair.

"Something like that."

Trent held Elli closer, "Some details would help us."

She shrugged and picked at the last of the noodles with each tooth of the fork, letting the metal kiss her teeth the last bite.

"There was a crack on the ceiling of the barn and I got a ladder to climb up and fix it. I was clumsy and a stupid board hit me," she rubbed the area and immediately removed her hand. _Jeez_, that was a sore spot. "When I was trying to get down I must've slipped and fell off."

"That could cause some fairly decent damage," the doctor agreed.

Elli frowned, "Why didn't you call Gotz? Or someone more trained in that area? Why didn't you at least have a second person around?"

She shrugged.

"No!" the nurse slammed her fist down in frustration. "Don't you shrug at me. Give me an answer, tell me why you did that!"

Claire felt like a teenager being lectured. She rolled her eyes and looked away, shrugging.

An annoyed screech left her, "How could you be so careless? Do you even realize how serious things were when we got to you? This isn't a game, Claire. You could have some serious long term issues from this."

"Elli–"

"No, Trent!" she shouted. "Don't blow this off to spare her feelings. She was frozen half to death and covered in her own vomit. She looked like she'd been beaten up! Mugged or something!" she threw her hands out. "Do you realize how bad it would have been if that farm hadn't called us? When would I have found you, the next day? Frozen like an icicle and–"

"Elli!" he scolded. "Stop that talk this instant."

Her cherry-tinted bottom lip curved out in a pout and she looked from the love of her life to her best friend. Tears fell from her eyes again, and that was all it took for the two women to get up and hug. Elli cried into her best friend's shoulder, while she comforted her by reassuring her that everything was okay.

"I could have never talked to you again," she cried.

"Naw," Claire patted her back. "I know you need to tell _someone_ about the latest gossip in the whatever magazine of the week."

"Oh, Claire," she hit her. Trent laughed and was back in the kitchen messing with things.

"I'm okay," she squeezed Elli close for a moment before letting go. "Sweaty and gross, but okay."

Elli gazed up at her forehead, "That must have been one big board."

She shrugged. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about anymore.

They had to, though. When Trent came back to the group, they were all seated on the furniture and discussing the conundrum. Elli wrote down prescriptions that Trent suggested. He came up and did an examination of her with the first aid kit he towed along.

He warned her about the dangers of sleeping after a concussion. At some point, he beamed a flashlight in her eyes to test her focus. Thankfully, he was satisfied with her reactions.

They discussed her medicine options. To help with the concussion, he was going to send over prescription painkillers in the morning, but for tonight, recommended she use her basic ones when she started feeling any pain. For her severe changes in body temperature within such a short time frame, he advised her not to do any outdoor activity for at least five days.

When Claire complained about tending to the animals, he said it should be fine as long as she dressed warmly and was extremely cautious of her sensitively.

Elli didn't give medical advice, but did interrupt them several times to glare or lecture. It was Elli's special delivery of tough love.

"I don't want you sleeping tonight. If you slip back into unconsciousness, there's always the chance for something to go wrong."

Claire was unhappy about that.

While her friends discussed arrangements for the night, she helped herself to another serving of goulash and stayed in the kitchen, enjoying the food and warmth.

It had been a dramatic day she had not intended on having. She promised herself to not climb ladders any time soon. Trent was packing up his kit when Elli joined her in the kitchen, arms crossed and a sad smile on her face.

"I'm glad you're awake and walking around."

Claire sighed, "Thank you for everything. I'm so sorry I scared you like that."

"Yeah, well, I guess you can make it up with some girl time tonight while I babysit you."

She laughed and put her empty bowl in the sink.

"How are things?"

Elli tucked some loose hairs behind her ear, "Aside from your accident, things were good today. We weren't overhauled and Trent made his mom's famous noodle recipe."

"It's to die for," Claire agreed.

Elli giggled, "It is. He was worried too, ya know. He cares about you."

"I know," she leaned into the counter with arms crossed. Both women spied on him from across the house, distracted with the news on TV and his supplies.

Claire realized how bad she smelled, "I'm going to shower. If I'm not out by the time you leave, then thank you, doc. For everything."

He looked over and grinned, "Any time."

She shuffled into her bedroom and collected some worn jeans and a few layers of shirts. Her bed looked amazing and so very inviting at the moment. She almost debated if a shower could wait until morning. Alas, it could not, and she tore her gaze from the blankets and headed straight for the bathroom. Her body was screaming for a hot shower. It'd been a long and exhausting day—physically and mentally.

Laying the clean set of clothes down on toilet tank near the shower stall, she peeled off her shirt and shorts, and kicked them into a pile by the door. They needed to be cleaned. Leaning down and turning the water on full blast, she tested the temperature with her fingertips, and thankfully, it didn't take long for it to heat up.

Stepping in and positioning herself underneath the spray, she wetted down her hair, and enjoyed the feel of the hot water running along her back and soothing her tense muscles.

It was heavenly, and she may have moaned…perhaps a tad louder than intended.

Closing her eyes, she angled her body towards the nozzle and rinsed off the dried sweat and flecks of dirt from her face. All the stress of the day flowed from her and went down the drain, leaving her body clean and her mind free of its weight.

Blush tinted her whole face and chest as her thoughts hopped about and landed on a recent memory.

Gray.

She really needed some girl time right about now.

She scrubbed her skin until it turned raw and red, then finished off conditioning her hair. With the ends of it reaching her hip, it was a tedious task to wash her hair thoroughly.

When it was all done, she jumped out and dressed in the fresh clothes. She moved the dirty ones in the hamper and left a towel on her hair, twisting her hair in it.

The steam was making her sweat, so she left the bathroom and was instantly cooled down from the chamber of fog.

Elli was watching TV alone, skimming through channels. She looked up at Claire and smiled, holding up a hairbrush.

She was an angel today.

Claire plopped down on the floor, leaning into the couching where Elli was so she could remove the towel and get to work.

If people could purr, Claire would.

"My show isn't on tonight," Elli complained. "They're only doing re-runs."

"That's dumb," she confided.

"Yeah," she huffed and they were back in silence.

Claire was blushing, wondering how to broach the subject of boys with her friend. It shouldn't be too hard. Elli talked about her love life with Trent all the time, especially when they'd started dating. Even long before that.

She never had that need to talk about it, though. She hadn't had a love life in years. Long before she moved to Mineral Town. It was taboo in her realm.

With a deep inhale, Claire fidgeted, "Uh, Elli?"

"Yeah?" she was working on untangling her ends.

"Can I talk to you about something? It's, uh, personal."

"No way," Elli mocked sarcastically. "Don't you go telling your best friend personal things."

She laughed once and hugged her knees close. Her nails were suddenly the most interesting things in the world to play with, "I just, uh, um… yeah. Yeah."

"Spit it out already."

"I, uh… I went out the other night."

Silence.

"_Went out_?"

"Yeah, like, went to the inn and all. Not fancy or anything, just a casual outing."

"Claire," her tone was cautious. "You don't go _casual outing_."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "But I'd just gotten done in a session with Trent, and he kind of gave me this weird confidence boost to go out and have some fun. He said I could start out by bringing you, but I just… yeah."

"That's awesome. Really, it is," Elli was sincere, thinking that was all Claire had to say.

"I met someone," she blurted out.

Elli stopped brushing.

Claire's heart was in her throat, "And we looked at each other for a while, and he came up and talked to me. Before I knew it, he was kissing me and–"

"Oh. My. GODDESS!" she was up and squealing and jumping the next second, the couch wheezing under her attack. "_Shut up!_ Are you serious? Oh, my goodness, Claire. I need _deets_ and _now_. Did you kiss him back?"

Claire kept her head down to hide her embarrassment, "Yeah, I did."

More squealing and jumping. Then it all stopped when she fell to the ground and crawled in front of her. "Who is it?" she demanded.

"It's, uh… Gray. The guy who works at–"

"I know where he works! _Of course_ I know him! Are you kidding me right now? Gray did not kiss you. Did he really? He came up to you and everything? Oh, my Goddess, Claire. Dish it out, _now_. I want you to tell me every single second from the moment you walked into that place!"

Claire took a deep breath and held her face while reciting the night, "We just kept exchanging these looks. He was... beautiful and I couldn't keep my eyes from him. Ugh, I sound like a girl," she groaned.

Elli slapped her arm, "Shut up and continue."

She sighed, "He came up to me, asked if he could join me and we talked... it wasn't even bad. I can never talk to people, you know? But he was so good with conversation and we just had our own little bubble. Then he got all… touchy."

Elli wiggled her eyebrows.

"I was practically sitting on him after a while, and he was so sweet with me. I didn't want to kiss him because I was embarrassed. I was nervous and unprepared to get that far in one night. Going from an antisocial girl to a woman kissing a stranger at the bar."

"Were you drinking?"

She shook her head, "No, I was sober."

"So? When did he commence the kissing?"

Claire rolled her eyes at her friend's excitement, "After I started… touching him back. It was innocent, but we were caught up in each other. When he kissed me, it was short at first. It was like he knew how scared I was, so I guess he was easing me into it."

"Okay, so he didn't just _kiss_ you. He _really kissed_ you."

She shrugged, which led to Elli having another girly fit.

"When are you seeing him again?"

"I don't know. After we were together for a while, his sister needed his help cleaning up. The diner had closed and the guests had all left or gone to their rooms. We hadn't even noticed," she giggled. "He walked me out and told me to come back soon. That was it."

"Oh, no, Claire. That's so much more than _just it_. You need to see him again!"

"I don't know what to do though, Elli. I'm so lost in this area. I haven't liked a guy in a long, long time."

She grabbed a pillow to hug, "So you _do_ like him?"

Claire nodded sheepishly.

"Then it's settled. You're seeing him again."

"But what–"

"Tonight."

Her eyes bulged, "What?"

Elli bounced back on the couch and went to brushing her blonde hair like a madwoman. "We have to get you ready."

"No, I can't go see him tonight!"

"Why not?"

She threw her hands up, "Because it's already late and I look like hell. I have a giant bruise that's made me a hundred times more hideous!"

"Hey!" Elli tugged her hair, eliciting a good yelp from her. "You are _not_ hideous, okay? Goddess, it took the men in this town to finally open their stupid eyes and see you. You'll be fine. I promise."

"No, I won't be. I have no idea what to say or do."

"Try starting with 'hello.' It's worked for centuries."

"No," she turned her head. "Elli, I can't do this."

She hummed, "Oh, but I think you can."

"I thought you were supposed to be here for me so we could have a girl's night."

"We are having a girl's night. I'm coming with you."

Claire fidgeted with herself while listing off excuses as to why she couldn't go.

She wanted the games to stop. She curled her shoulders in, in hopes to shrink, and with difficulty she tore her face away from the patterns of the rug and crawled away from the furniture. She was hunchback and her eyes were squeezed shut, brows drawn together in a struggle for hopes that maybe if she didn't look at Elli for a moment, everything would be back to the way it was before. The fear would dissipate. Her heart would stop quivering in a bid for reassurance.

Elli skipped around the house, fixing her appearance.

Her mind swelled with a headache. Claire went to the bathroom to pop more painkillers. It was going to be a long night.

Her reflection made her unhappy. The bruise looked painful, blotched in purples, blues, yellows, and reds. Her lips were scrapped. The bags under her eyes were puffy.

Defeated, she dragged herself back into the living room. Elli was putting her boots on.

"I really don't want to do this," Claire self-consciously hid behind her hair.

"Why?" she moaned. "You're making this more difficult than it has to be."

"I have this giant thing on my forehead! I can't exactly wish it away."

Elli motioned her over and searched through a basket by the door. It was where Claire kept her winter accessories: gloves, hats, scarves.

"Here!" she whipped around and pulled Claire closer. In one swift tug and several adjustments later, Claire opened her eyes.

"It matches with your outfit and covers it up."

She glanced in the full-length mirror nearby. It was a black beanie, and as much as Claire hated to admit it, it was a good idea.

"Now, let's go."

Because she was wearing jeans that hugged her ankles, it was easy to slip boots on. She wanted to put on a vest because of the turtleneck and flannel she already had on, but Elli was adamant on following the doctor's orders to keep extra warm and made her put on a coat.

They turned off the lights and locked the door on their way out.

Elli held the conversation.

Boys made girls immature, Claire concluded. They made girls strip common sense and any ounce of self-decency. Shoes and boys.

In spite of the fight she put up to stay home, she was secretly ecstatic to see Gray. He was a new lighter flickering flame in her. She swore there'd be a bonfire going off in her chest soon. But was also aware of how things might actually turn out. He might brush her off. He could easily find a different girl at the bar that would amuse him for an evening.

Claire would do nothing about it. She would accept defeat and brush it off as nothing. It was so much easier to give up than put up a fight.

The moon was a sliver in the sky and barely reflected any light on them. Streetlights guided them down the brick pathways.

Elli would occasionally grab her hand for reassurance and run her mouth all over again. Claire hoped her head could sustain it all. It was nine o'clock, and the place was open for another hour. The place was probably packed.

They turned onto the street and Claire could hardly keep up with Elli. Her pace was practically at a sprint.

"Could you tone it down a notch?" Claire pulled the beanie down lower.

Elli giggled, reaching the door first. She held it open, "Ladies first."

Her lungs failed to work when she entered the inn. It was last night all over again. The adrenaline and confidence mix drained, along with the color in her face.

The tables were stuffed with the travelers from the other night. The shopkeepers were having an outing, and at the bar huddled the younger crowd.

"Hey, girls!" that same voice boomed at them.

Elli waved, "Hey, Ann."

"Table for two tonight?"

Elli nodded and dragged Claire beside her as Ann led the way. It smelled like cigars and fries.

Claire's body was on autopilot. All she was really searching for was one person in particular. Her eyes scouted the area. Ann led them to a table on the opposite side of the room from the stairs. Claire took the seat that had her back to the wall. Elli ordered their drinks.

At the table beside them was Mayor Thomas. He was thick and built from iron rods and whale blubber. The rounds of his cheeks were that of a hound dog with two tennis balls inside that he constantly refused to give up. The neck of his collar was two sizes too small and made his chins bulge and eyes pop out, like he was an owl always worried that the wolves would steal his mouse.

When the spunky waitress waltzed away, Elli wasted no time, "Do you see him?"

Her shoulders fell, "Not yet."

"Well, until we do, we can just talk and enjoy ourselves."

Claire agreed. There was no point on settling on one goal when they could be having a great time together as best friends.

"How're things with Trent?"

"Good. We're kind of in a tough spot right now. I'd like to move in with him, but I can't leave my grandma all alone, especially with Stu there to take care of."

"It's not like you're leaving town. He could spend the day at your house or mine or with May and the Pastor like he always does, then spend nights with your grandma."

Elli smiled, "I hadn't thought of that. I worry about her nights, though. What if something happens? Stu would be traumatized."

Claire played with the beanie, "I think you need to give him more credit than that. He's eight now."

"I still see him as my baby brother," Elli sighed. "The wedding is only three weeks away. There are so many things to take care of."

"You have me."

She beamed, "I know. And I'm forever thankful for that. You're my best friend."

"You're mine, too."

Ann came around with their drinks then, "Can I getcha ladies anything else?"

"No–"

"Yeah, actually," Elli piped up. "Ann, where's your brother?"

"The dweeb is upstairs in his room," she rolled her vibrant, blue eyes. Up close, Claire noticed how strangely beautiful she was too, just like her brother. "He's heated as a bull 'cause shit went down at the 'smiths today with grandpa. Freakin' baby, if you ask me."

Claire sunk in her chair. There was no way she could talk to him when he was angry, let alone go to his room.

"Thanks!"

"No problemo. You guys enjoy your drinks, all right? Don't be afraid to call me over if you need anything."

Claire nervously sucked on her straw. Elli kicked her foot.

"Ow!"

"Get up and go see him!"

Her puffy eyes focused on the drink, "No."

"We didn't come all this way for you to back out now."

"Didn't you hear her? He's already in a bad mood. I'm not going to ruin his night any more than it is."

Elli huffed, "Ruin his night? What are you, stupid? Stop it. Go upstairs."

"I can't leave you here all alone. Besides, I don't know _which_ room is his."

Cliff was waiting Mayor Thomas' table. He dropped off two plates of steaming food and made small talk. Elli waved him over before he went to check another table.

"Hey, Cliff."

He nodded.

"Do you know which room is Gray's?"

"Uh," he scratched his head, looking between the two women. "Upstairs, last door on your left."

Claire hid her face, red from embarrassment. Her anxious heart was clogging her airway.

Elli thanked him and he left them alone.

"While you do your thing, I'm going to spend some time with them," she gestured at Rick, Karen, Popuri, Mary, and Zack. Those were a group of friends Elli went out with on occasion. "We all need to catch up."

"I can't do this," Claire's wide eyes met Elli's. "I seriously can't."

Her sympathy broke through and Elli smiled sadly. She soothed Claire's hands, "I wouldn't let you do this if I didn't think you could. You'll be fine."

Elli gathered her drink and got up from her chair. She draped her coat in her other arm, "Good luck. I'll be here for an hour, and then I'm heading home to check on Stu and grandma. Don't hesitate to call me."

Claire watched her only friend bounce across the room with grace and blended herself in with the new crowd flawlessly. Something in her jittered with envy. If only being a social butterfly was a process she developed into. Elli sat on a stool and listening to her friends.

Her stomach twisted and if she hadn't taken a dozen pills already, she would have popped in more. She dug in her pockets and spilled a few gold on the table beside her hardly-touched drink. She itched her hair furiously and then fixed it.

_It's now or never_.

Claire got up and neatly tucked the chair back in. Her thighs were shaky. She shoved her hands in her coat until she realized sweaty hands would be unattractive. She snuck her way across the room. It was filled with laughter and conversation she knew she'd never have. She was feeling awful.

At the foot of the stairwell, her stomach weighed her down. Her hand shook as she landed it on the railing. _Oh, no_. This wasn't going to go well. With one lasting glance at her friend, she huffed a hot breath out and took small steps at a time.

Her hands played with the beanie and the strings on her coat.

At the top of the stairs, the noise from below was dull and muffled. The hallway was long, a dozen of the same door repeated throughout. With ten more exaggerated breaths, she scuffled down the hardwood floor. It was a rustic place, antlers on the wall, logs stacked as walls, stands for firewood outside each room.

She stopped at his door. It was no different from the rest.

The doubt started coming in on her. Maybe she over-thought it all. It could have been all in her imagination.

Elli would skin her if she came back down this soon.

Her anvil of a hand stayed heavy at her side, pressing nails into her palm. She hated how easy it was to beat herself up. _So easy._

She sucked a new breath in through clenched teeth. Her heart was borderline painful. _It's now or never._

Her fist was knocking before she could back out. The regret was instant. A loud thump and groan came from the other side. Angry footsteps marched.

"Dammit, you guys! I already told you, I don't wanna do anything tonight," he shouted. The door swung open with a gust of air that played on the ends of her blonde hair.

Their eyes locked.

Gray was towering by the door, shell-shocked at whom his visitor was. She couldn't help but notice how natural his beauty was in just a wife-beater and sweats, hair sticking up in all directions. It heated up her entire face.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–"

"No, shit, baby. I'm the sorry one. Just... damn…" He trailed off, drinking her in with his eyes in a way that melted her brain.

He grabbed for her waist, and his lips found hers all over again.

* * *

_Review to read that Graire action sooner~_


	3. Complete Set

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Complete Set**

He leaned down, desperate for her touch, and their lips met in the softest, slowest, most sensual kiss that Gray had ever experienced. The iron taste of her chapped lips mixed with her unique taste was luscious.

Gray opened his mouth to her, his breath leaving him in gasps and shaking groans when her tongue met his again. He closed his lips around hers, and sucked on it tenderly while his hands moved from their place on Claire's waist, up her coat.

His palms slid easily against the cotton and the kiss instantly deepened with a loud grunt from both of them. He swallowed every breath that she gave him and pulled her closer, wanting her to feel how much he wanted to be near her, consumed by her.

Claire's hands slid gradually up to his neck, and Gray's eyes rolled into his head as her nose rubbed along his jaw. His breaths were monstrously loud as they careened down his nose when he felt the warmth from her palms soak into him. _Claire._

"I'm sorry." Her small fingers grasped at the back of his neck, playing with his ruffled hair, and her breath burned hot across his throat.

"Come on, baby," he led her into the room and shut the door. He turned them around and pushed her into it, running his hands up to cup her neck. "You're late."

He enjoyed her blush. It was fantastic. She giggled and hid her face in his chest, nose buried in the rise of his heart. Her arms snaked from underneath and hugged him. Gray was helpless to her smell and body, so close to his and returned the hold, squeezing her tightly.

"You're late," he repeated.

"It's been a rough day," she mumbled into his beater. Feeling her lips move raised gooseflesh on him.

Gray felt as her shoulders shook with the stuttering breaths that she was taking. He pulled back to look at her face. She looked exhausted, broken, and weak: adjectives that he didn't want to use on his baby.

"What's up? What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she put a hand on his bare bicep. "I hear work wasn't sunshine and daisies."

The weight of the day was back on him, just like that. She'd been able to take it all away by showing up. Now, he really needed a cigarette. He pulled her with him to the bed on the far left side by a cracked open window. He motioned for her to take a seat and rummaged through his bedside table to get a cigarette.

Claire watched his movements carefully, tucking into a small ball against the wall.

He lit one and carelessly threw the lighter and pack back in. He crawled on his bed and scooted right next to her.

He took a long drag and blew over-practiced rings into the chilled air.

"Come here," he patted the sheets between his open legs. Claire's blush was pink and lovely, and their eyes met for a brief moment before she crawled over and fell back into him.

She prepared herself for his lips, but instead he simply pulled her body closer and hugged her tightly. He buried his nose into her hair and breathed her in while Claire pushed her nose into his neck. He smelled of rich berries, cologne, and smoke. _Perfect._

She smiled into his neck and he kissed her nose.

"Want to talk about it?"

He put the cigarette back to his lips and blew out the window, "Not much to talk about."

"You sure?"

"He was being a real bastard today," he massaged his face. "I mean, jeez, I know I ain't perfect with the stuff yet, but that doesn't mean I gotta be treated like shit."

"What do you mean?"

Gray took another swig of smoke. "I was working on an order for that old coot farmer. He needed clippers for his sheep or some shit. There I am, cooling the metal down, and it's real basic stuff. I don't need any help. But he's suddenly there and up my ass about how I took it out too early, that I ain't putting the right water on it."

Claire heard him suck in and burn more of the cigarette.

"The old man's was on me for everything after that. I accidentally yelled at a customer that came in later. I was too bent to realize what I was doin'. Gramps went on another load of shit lecture and I couldn't do it any more. I stormed out. Could've killed someone if they got in my way."

She watched him toss the orange end out of the window. His arm wrapped around her like the other one.

"Then you don't come in and I was done. I needed space to breathe and think."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hand covering one of his.

"S'okay," he nuzzled her neck. He was tense and Claire knew he had more to say, so she patiently rubbed his warm hands and waited.

"I'm ready to quit," he admitted, barely audible in her skin. "I feel stupid, you know?"

That made her upset. She turned in his arms and scooted away, facing him. He frowned at their loss of contact.

"It's called _training_."

He was taken aback. It wasn't like she knew what the hell he was going through, who was she to pretend?

She was nimble and submissive to her surroundings, and he knew she ghosted well until someone took the sheet off. He wasn't going to scare her away, and in truth, it wasn't a big deal. She was spot-on in retrospect.

"You're right," he laughed humorlessly in his shoulder. "I'm such a wimp. Sorry for complaining so much."

She played with the brim of the black beanie she was wearing and chewed her bottom lip. "I don't mind that you're open with me," he noticed her hand twitch but pull back. "You can talk to me about how you're feeling, even if it'll sound ridiculous to you. But hearing you threaten to quit something you've worked so hard for just because of someone else is stupid. It's not right."

His lips twitched with a response, but for the life of him he had no clue what to say.

_Thank you? You mean that, baby? You're right and meeting you was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time?_

He swallowed and watched as she fidgeted with the ends of her hair. Even though Gray realized how true it was, Claire looked minute and delicate beneath him, and he at once felt the need to change that.

With a soft sigh, he slowly moved forward and cupped her face in his hands.

"Claire," he whispered with his nose just inches from hers. He waited for her eyes to meet his, and gently smiled down at her when they did. She was stunning. "Thank you." He let his thumb trace her pink cheek and watched the color deepen under his touch. "I don't get what my grandfather is saying to me right now, but I think the time will come."

She nodded.

He let go and leaned back, "I already told you, I'm a selfish man."

Her response was silence, a small smile, but nothing for him to go on. He could really use another smoke break.

The way she could be silent for so long should have made things uncomfortable, but instead, it made Gray feel free. He could really talk about things.

He moved around to reach for another cigarette and lit it. When the nicotine hit his lips, his muscles relaxed.

"The shit he says makes me depressed sometimes. When I think I'm good at something, the bastard knocks me back down. I don't think it could get any worse most days."

She had no doubt that Gray thought he got depressed, but that was probably because he had nothing to compare it to.

Still, what could she say? That she didn't just feel depressed - instead, it was like the depression was the core of her, of every part of her, from her mind to her bones? That if he got blue, she got black? That she hated those pills so much because she knew how much she relied on them to live?

No, she couldn't say any of that because when it all came down to it, nobody wanted to hear it. No matter how much they like you or love you, they didn't want to hear it.

"He brought up my ma the other day," he flicked ash on his knee. "It got me so riled up."

"What happened?" she hoped he understood the depth of her question.

His shoulders bounced, his eyes glossy and lost in something outside the window. The smoke rolled from his lips like a steam train. "What, to my ma? She passed away a long time ago. Ann still gets sad about it."

Her gut twisted, "May I ask how?"

His eyes stayed away. The cigarette was pulled from his mouth, "Cancer in her lungs."

Claire's face seemed to crumble with emotion as she looked into his eyes. She shook her head slowly from side to side and cleared her throat. It was quiet between them until Gray scratched the scruff on his chin.

"That was his daughter. He never shows real emotion unless it's about her. He was yelling at our dad for letting Ann date that Cliff guy. Said she was too good for him. He says that 'cause she's so much like our mom."

She opened her mouth but found she was unable to speak.

"There was a shit ton of yelling. Ann says she loves the guy – I don't know. He's an all right guy, I guess. If he can handle her, then why not let him? But Gramps is too old-fashioned to accept shit easily."

The smoke was burning her nostrils, but Claire hugged herself and found comfort in it like he did.

He rubbed his nose, "It's just…" finally, his gaze turned and met her eyes. They were more sincere than he expected and left him breathless. She reached out and soothed his arm for reassurance.

"It's just that it hurts to think about her."

"Pain demands to be felt," she muttered in her kneecaps. He snorted, left in total agreement.

"Ain't that the truth. It's always weird when I realize that I'm not the only person in the world who thinks and feels these awful things."

Her hand lowered and slowly slipped to the top of his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you for talking to me about her."

She was thanking him for talking? His eyebrows pushed together and he enjoyed another drag of smoke. What the heck was he supposed to say?

Those big sapphire eyes looked at him through thick black lashes. Dammit, she was too innocent and sweet for her own good.

She sat with her chin in her palm, watching him intently, never judging, never interrupting, or making comments on the things that he told her. It was liberating, cleansing, almost like therapy to be so open and honest with her.

But feeling vulnerable didn't suit him and he started to shake it off. They hadn't talked about her and he was suddenly left guilty, throat thick with a mess of feelings. "What were your folks like?"

He continued to stare at her. The serene look began to fade and gradually morphed into disquiet and worry. Occasionally her mouth would open to speak, but she would close it again quickly and exhale loudly.

She shrugged it off, "They were good people."

"Yeah?" he flicked the second butt of out the window and shut it. Winter nights were too cold to let the breeze in. "I've always been envious of people with good parents. I ain't sayin' that my dad's a bad guy. He's an awesome dad. Kinda always wanted that complete set, though. You know?"

Goddess, she knew. "Yeah."

"It's cool, though. Like I said, my dad's great. We've always done stuff together and he lets me get away with shit I shouldn't."

Her smile was sad.

He glanced over and noticed the fire was dying. The bed creaked under his weight as he shifted over, kissing her ear as he got up and slouched around. She watched him with curious eyes as he calmly walked and itched his back with his calloused fingers. There were already a few blocks of wood by the fireplace and he threw them in with ease, and her eyes followed the muscles crawling in his arms.

There was something very beautiful about him. She enjoyed how mellow he was.

He leaned into the mantle and waited until he was satisfied with the way the flames ate the wood.

His head turned to her. Their eyes stuck.

The next second, he pushed himself off the stones and strode across the room, right back to the edge of the bed.

Gray gently rested his palm on the bed by her thigh, and leaned towards her, watching her mouth carefully as he moved closer.

Claire's eyes closed just as their lips met, but Gray kept his open. She was too damn beautiful for him to look away from.

Their lips pressed together gently: warm and moist. Claire was the first to start deepening the kiss by opening her mouth and taking Gray's bottom lip in between hers. She nibbled on it lightly and cupped Gray's jaw as she did.

He simply reveled in everything she was doing to him. It was erotic having her hold him to her as her mouth made tender love to him. His skin rippled under her touch; heated.

Gray leaned forward and kissed her again. He was greedy and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. The freedom that their company had brought him was too good to ignore.

With a gentle caress of his tongue along hers, Gray lifted back from Claire's mouth and crawled onto the bed, sitting beside her.

He hummed as Claire placed soft kisses across his mouth before she pulled away. Gray leaned into her palm and watched her eyes as they fluttered open.

She traced his eyebrows and followed the strong angle of his cheekbones. His eyes were spectacular. Cold blue that were almost gray, rimmed with a navy ring. They held power. They were demanding.

"Tell me about your dad."

He tangled their legs together and grabbed her hand, "He taught me how to be a man, like any other dad. The man's my hero. I wanted to be just like him. I promised him that I would try." He paused. "I still think I have a long way to go."

Claire felt Gray's chest rise and fall with a deep breath.

"My ma helped him get this inn. She's from a wealthy family and she used her trust fund to get him started. He loved it and hated it. He hated the assholes that he had to deal with, but he loved meeting people and helping." Claire noticed that his tone was light, almost happy.

"He's really tall, he has a mustache that he is very proud of, and he loves Sinatra and motorcycles. He hates wearing suits and his favorite film is _Jaws_. Some people find him scary, or intimidating, but he isn't. He's a freakin' teddy bear."

She giggled and he found that he loved it. "I know he kinda felt helpless raising two kids without my ma, especially with Ann. It made me feel guilty sometimes. But I help the man when I can 'cause we're family. We're always gonna stick together. We're not weak as long as we've got each other."

Claire didn't say anything. She didn't want to because the jealousy was ridden all over her.

By looking through the world for so many years in a brutal perspective, she felt a lot of people caged Helplessness Blues in their voice boxes. It was a tune that buttered people up for the sole purpose of leaving them soggy and drenched in uncomfortable ways.

People didn't know what to do with themselves.

Claire didn't know what to do with herself.

Anger and pain anchored Claire, while fear was yanking her like a bitch on a chain. Getting up and walking around were chores. Communication was painful and exhausting.

However, she feared giving into her negative feelings and burying herself even deeper. She didn't want them to bury her six feet under. That was already a whim that she tempted herself with too often.

By this point, she would have surely swallowed the pills if the electric collar of Guilt didn't hinder her.

Whenever she got so far and lost in herself, facing the shadowed bodies of demons that were inside, it burned her nerves and skin and conscience and made her recoil. She was helpless against herself.

"Are you okay?" Gray asked as his eyes flickered between hers.

_No._

"Yeah," she muttered with a sharp nod. "I'm fine. I'd like to meet him sometime."

She stiffened at her own words. Volunteering to meet people was something she never did. Goddess, Gray did things to her – it really messed her up.

"Good, because he's probably gonna want to meet the girl I spend every day with."

Her blush rekindled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nestled his nose by her ear, enjoying her smell, and kissed her cheek. "You know, you're good at making me talk. I'm hardly decent with new people, but I feel comfortable with you."

Her lips curved up. That meant a lot to her. "It's the same for me."

"If it's the same, then where's my chocolate?"

She turned to face him, "What?"

"It's the fourteenth. Girls are supposed to give their guys some sweets."

"Oh," she blushed. He wore a cocky smirk and had a playful twinkle in his eyes. She covered her smile behind her hair and hesitated. He gripped her hand tighter.

She looked up and gave him a very chaste kiss on the corner of his jaw.

"There."

"_There?_ That's it? What, I don't even get tongue?"

She laughed and nodded making the blonde hair move like rays of sunshine.

Claire felt her heart kick behind her ribs at his words and let out a stuttered breath. How did he do that to her? How did he make her feel so chaotic? She felt like she was drowning while being simultaneously lifted to the heavens. Heavy lightness. Her brain couldn't quite comprehend it.

"But you're here, so I guess that's enough," he joked.

"I could have gotten you–"

Gray cut her words off with a kiss, smiling when he felt her melt into him little by little. It was a lazy, tender kiss and Gray moaned softly when her tongue licked at his bottom lip. He reveled in the feeling.

"You're here," Gray repeated as he kissed her and knotted his hands into her hair. Their tongues danced and their bodies rubbed together creating a glorious friction. He groaned at the feel of Claire's nails as they scored his back.

Gray gently rolled Claire onto her back and settled at her side, lifting one of her legs over his hip. Their lips still worked tediously on each other's.

"Stay with me tonight," he gasped as their lips parted only slightly aware of the words as they tumbled from him. He pushed her hair from her face and kissed her cheek. "Please, baby, just…just for tonight." He searched her face for an answer. "But don't stay just because I want you to. Stay because you want to. Stay with me because you want to."

Gray didn't know where the pleading words were coming from. All he knew was that he meant them, and he needed her to say yes more than anything else at that moment.

The smile that appeared on her face could have lit up Broadway, and the sparkle in her eye made Gray's body ignite.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied as her hand slid gently from his temple to his chin.

Gray smiled back at her and crushed his lips once more against hers, peppering her with soft kisses, hard kisses, wet kisses, sexy kisses, chaste kisses, long moaning kisses, and slow breathless kisses.

Claire suddenly stopped and disconnected from him. He felt the loss immediately.

Her eyes were wild with panic. It made him worry, "What?"

"I can't stay."

His expression and heart sunk, "Why?"

"I got hurt–"

"Shit, baby. Did I hurt you?" he was off of her in a moment, clutching his hair for life and messing it up even more. Then his hands were all over her, checking for red spots and any signs of discomfort.

She pulled away, "No, Gray. Stop it."

His hands were back in his dark ginger hair, gripping it at the roots. "I'm so sorry. Goddess, baby, you know I'd never–"

"Gray," she sat up and fixed her beanie lower. "Listen to me!"

His chest heaved and she toyed with the soft blanket, curling the material around her nails, "You didn't do anything."

"But you said you were hurt."

"Yes, but you interrupted me," she frowned. "I was trying to–"

"But you said you didn't want to stay with me!"

Claire's lips thinned into an annoyed line. She gnashed her teeth together.

He looked at her, waiting, skeptical, ready for the disappointment and the frustration to hit, but it never came. She was telling the truth. But, of course, Gray couldn't be satisfied with that. He had to push, to antagonize, and hear exactly what his irrational brain was dead-set for hearing. Gray rubbed his neck, "Sorry."

"I can't stay," she restated. "Because I'm not allowed to sleep tonight, and I don't want to keep you up all night."

"Uh…" his brows knitted in confusion.

"I got a concussion today, and I fell asleep after it. Trent told me I couldn't sleep or there was a higher chance for long-term damage."

Gray snatched her face in his hands, "You're shitting me – you got a concussion? And you freakin' let me complain about _my_ day? Shit, baby, you're kidding me…" he examined her face but squinted when he retraced her words. "Who the hell's Trent?"

"Doctor Trent, from the clinic. He and Elli took care of me."

He frowned, "You seriously got a concussion today? How?"

Claire tried looking away, but his hands still had a hold of her. She fretted with the beanie's end at her ears, "I fell from my barn's ceiling."

"What were you doing up there?! Are you fucking insane? Do you have a freakin' death wish?"

_Death wish? He had no idea._

Claire was shutting down. She didn't like the attention on her, and she felt helpless and exposed. She wasn't some fortune cookie, broken for the world to learn something they should already know.

She pushed his hands away and looked down, "Fixing it."

"All on your own? Yeah, that was real genius of you, Claire. Real freakin' smart."

Claire flexed her jaw and slid out of his reach, around him and climbed off the bed. He reached over and grabbed her arm, pulling her back and him standing. "The hell are you doing?"

"Going home."

She pulled, but Gray was stronger and heaved her back, "Says who?"

"Me."

"All I did was ask you a question!"

"Let go of me, Gray," she clawed at his hand.

He drew her closer and gripped both of her arms. "Try me."

Claire pounded her fists on his chest, wriggling herself out of his grasp. As she turned to run for the door, his hands were on her hips, fingers digging into her. In her frazzled state, confusion and adrenaline pumping through her veins, she whimpered and went weak in the knees.

"Just stop, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this."

"Let go of me," she babbled, voice defeated.

"I can't, baby. I can't."

For the life of her, she didn't want to cry. They stood in silence; her back pressed to him, arms locked like chains around her, and both of them trying to calm their breathing.

Her entire body slumped and she leaned her head against his shoulder. A small smile tugged at the corners of Gray's mouth as he put an arm around her, pulling her a little closer. He turned his body to her, resting my chin on top of her head. She snuggled closer, gripping his coat in her hands and burying her face in his chest.

"Gray?"

"Hmm?" his lips were at her ear.

"I need some painkillers."

Sure enough, the aching in her body was creeping back and pulsing into her sensitive skull.

He led her to the bathroom and left one arm around her waist as he opened the cabinet mirror and scanned through the bottles. He turned them around to check labels and found good ones. Gray opened it up and shook two into her open palm.

They didn't talk. Claire popped the pills, cupped water in her hands, and drank them down. She dried her hands on a nearby towel.

She gazed at their reflection. His attention was on her and Claire's was on their portraits.

"What do we do, now that we aren't going to bed?"

"You can't stay up with me," her voice was raspy. "You have work in the morning."

"Thursdays are my days off."

Claire's eyelids dragged, "I want to go home."

"Okay, we can figure out something to do there instead," he agreed.

She smacked her lips and grunted, "You're being stubborn."

"Better than being unreasonable."

She toyed with her coat zipper and tugged it all the way up, mumbling obscenities in the collar. Gray left her side to go in his drawers and pull an old moss-green sweater on and then a worn down coat. He rummaged through a different drawer and yanked out two cotton socks that didn't match, then rolled them on.

Claire hugged herself and scuffled into the main room after fixing herself in the mirror. _Whatever_, she told herself. He could come along if he wanted to.

She absent-mindedly played with the zipper in her mouth and walked with eyes cast down. Gray was in his boots and plopped his UMA hat on.

"Ready?"

She shrugged. His arm went around her back and he led them out, locking the door behind him. The keys jingled in his pocket and the floor creaked under them.

His eyes followed her mouth, the way her tongue flicked her zipper and teeth gnawed on the ridges. He felt oddly at peace.

It wasn't that his brain turned off completely while she was around, or that he had some cheesy spiritual enlightenment while they were together, it was simply that Claire seemed to help lower his brain volume. The frustration, anger, and disappointment that resided and twisted constantly within him, was blunted and muffled by Claire's presence. He could breathe better, relax, felt more himself, and Gray had done nothing but bask unashamedly in his newfound slice of serenity.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, he looked over to see if his sister was still at the counter. Cliff was sitting behind the bar, scanning over a magazine.

"Yo," Gray waved. Cliff looked up and smiled. "If my dad asks, I'm gonna be out for the night."

His gaze switched to Claire, who tucked herself further into Gray. He nodded.

The two went outside.

The moon was on top of the sky, stars sprinkled generously around. Temperatures were at their lowest. Nothing was visible out of the streetlights. Claire watched her footing on the snow. Gray left his arm hooked along her upper back.

When the night grew silent between them, Claire began to feel uncomfortable.

Claire sometimes felt like less than a person―she considered herself to be a question that no one had the courage to ask. She would let herself sandcastle inside of others' stomach from the guilt of comparable circumstances.

Claire amputated the parts of her that grew fond of herself a long time ago.

Gray's worst crime being that he kicked in the womb, in her eyes; she made a silent prayer to her conscience. That he would turn back and go home. Leave her be. She didn't want friends; it had been just the title that she gave the branches in her life that were destined to be abducted by the wind – she saw no reason for them. Why have friends when she couldn't even be one for herself?

Gray was a good man. He had no business getting wound up with her. It was selfish to let him in so freely when all there was under the surface were tangled of spider webs and pill capsules.

For years, the only thing she could do was describe the way the sky bent before it were about to fall. At her age, she's already had a lifetime of tossing and turning that made Gray look like afternoon hiccups.

She was a woman who bled like a maple tree. She was a broken faucet dripping self-esteem, and when her confidence would hit the ground, it echoed like sin in a room full of the Goddess and anyone could hear her coming from a mile away.

And she came to Gray like an afternoon, slowly as if she were a broken sunset with a lazy sky, seeming so delicate and fragile.

"I'm thinking we could do some cooking," Gray interrupted the silence. "Do you cook?"

"Why would we cook?"

"It'll pass the time," he smirked. "And I'll be honest, I could seriously use some grub."

She nodded.

He watched her, her face still down and shoulders slumped.

He dropped his arm from her, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Are you in any pain?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied.

He frowned. "That's not what I asked."

She sighed deeply, turning her head to look at him with tired eyes. There was a depth she didn't think he understood about that question, but no one had asked her that in a long time.

"Yes, Gray. I'm in pain."

He looked down at his hand and saw that his fingers had somehow braided themselves together with hers. Her hand felt tiny and fragile in his but also as if it belonged there. Gray raised their hands and held them to his chest. She looked at them, before looking up and meeting his gaze again.

The raw pain in her eyes made his smile fade and disappear.

"It hurts," she whispered, once again her eyes distant. "It hurts so much." She took a shuddering breath and the desperate sound made something ache in him.

"You just took some meds, though," his brows contorted.

"Yeah."

They were on her property line and he pulled them to a stop. Gray couldn't take the defeated look in her eyes, but he didn't know what he could do to remove it.

"You're kind of distant, you know that?"

She snorted and found an irrational interest in ends of her hair.

"I guess you could get more pills inside."

She took a deep breath, and as she breathed out he could see her eyes being emptied of all emotions. She was detaching herself. A clump of emotions was visibly swallowed down her throat, followed by sure nods.

"You're right," she stood up straight. The way her eyes changed cause Gray to smile.

"Now, come on," he playfully tugged a strand of her hair. "You owe me some chocolate and cookies."

He followed her to the door and watched her unlock it. The two walked in, and Claire took an extra second to watch the night.

Her distress had not disappeared. There had just been another spider web being woven in her.

* * *

_Reviews rock. More reviews = more Graire lovin' ~_


	4. Mental Hoarding

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: **WARNING**: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS HEAVY TOPICS. This story will start out T and eventually turn into M for more mature themes. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Mental Hoarding**

The snow was falling heavily the next afternoon as Claire visited the supermarket. She kept the beanie on, low on her face so it hooded her eyes. Gray and she had used up a chunk of her groceries and it was time to get more.

The bell chimed when she entered. She grabbed a basket and wandered around the perimeter.

It started as a normal shopping trip. She examined vegetables, put the greenest and cleanest ones in her basket. Stuck a loaf of bread in, spices, eggs, pasta, and rice. Then a cut of meat – something she didn't pay much attention to. While looking at flours, footsteps echoed an aisle over.

"Hey," they stopped moving. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are you?"

Claire shook her head and turned back to the powder, zoning the stranger's conversation out. She was low on the stuff after giving Ellen her only unopened sack.

"… she do anyway?"

She only caught the end of the sentence. That was Elli's voice.

She slowly straightened her posture. She didn't know who was talking, but she really wasn't in the mood to get noticed and caught in conversation right now. She just wanted to shop in peace.

"You are getting too invested in this girl. Who do you think you are, Mother Teresa? Yesterday you saved her from dying, and now you're gonna get her banged by Mr. Anger Management? C'mon!" the annoyed voice replied.

Claire's ears perked, as she realized they were talking about her. Who else was dying in the snow yesterday? She assumed the annoyed voice belonged to Karen, the daughter of the owners, who occasionally walked around and pretended to work. The only girl who could put any local's beauty to shame.

"She obviously doesn't want to stand up for herself, so somebody's gotta do it. Right?" Elli said easily.

"Somebody, nobody – it's a fine line," Karen replied with a bored tone. "I just think you shouldn't bother. She's obviously a lost cause. What did she do to you to deserve your protection anyway?"

"She's my best friend, that's exactly the reason I'm doing it. Even if she wasn't, she deserves it. She has done nothing wrong to me, or to anyone else for that matter."

She wanted to snort at Elli's comment.

She obviously didn't know anything, because she had done her fair share of wrongs against people.

"Why can't you find a normal hobby, like most people?" Karen sighed. "What happened to good old shopping?"

Elli laughed, and the bell-like chiming echoed through the almost-empty store.

"I would never give up on shopping, you know that," Elli cheered, "but helping a fellow human isn't about hobbies, it's about being a respectable human being."

"I see someone's been with Dr. Trent too much," Karen mocked.

"Just because you don't have a heart doesn't mean I shouldn't be using mine."

"I should be insulted, but sadly, I'm not," Karen had a smile in her voice. "C'mon, let's go. We wouldn't want to keep the boys waiting."

Elli laughed again, and Claire heard the door open. She looked over to it, and she watched her best friend walk out with the clinking sound from their heels fading as the door shut behind them.

She didn't move for several moments because she was too angry. She didn't even move her arm, still stretched out to grab the flour.

The superiority complex seemed to be a trait that they shared in their circle of friends. Eli obviously had hung out too much with them.

Claire was furious over the fact that Elli thought she needed saving; that she needed someone to protect her from all the vile things people did and said to her.

Like she could even make the slightest difference.

Apparently, Elli liked to act as if she didn't know her in the circle of others. As if they weren't friends.

Karen was most likely right; Elli was just looking for a new hobby. She probably wanted a charity case to make over and form as she wished.

She had to say though, that Elli was mistaken if she thought she would be that charity case.

Elli was wrong about another thing too; Claire didn't need anyone to stand up for herself. Didn't she get that Claire was trying to fade into the background and become invisible? There was a reason why she remained on the sidelines and it was surprising that Elli didn't get that.

Claire guessed Elli had her head so far up her ass that she wouldn't know left from right, or when it was time to back the hell off. Just because they were friends didn't mean it had to stay that way – that they were going to be that way forever.

The things Elli said almost hurt more than all the bad things Claire thought about herself. Elli made her out to be a weak person and she honestly didn't see herself that way.

A weak person wouldn't even bother getting up in the morning.

"Having troubles with picking?"

Claire's eyes refocused on reality and she snapped her hand back like the thing burned her.

It was Anna, a soft-spoken natural beauty, the mother of the local librarian and wife of a great adventurer.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize, you seemed frozen there for a while."

Claire blushed and nodded.

"Are you from around here?"

She grimaced, but changed to indifferent. "Yes."

"I've never seen you before. Where do you live?"

The truth was, they had seen each other before. It was last year at the big New Years party at the inn Elli dragged her to. Anna and her friends were tipsy to put it lightly. Everyone was.

"On the farm."

Anna was talking again, but Claire was already walking down the aisle and to the check out.

Jeff had shaved off his mustache. He looked even more like a child. Claire ignored his conversation and avoided eye contact.

She shoved the bags up her arms and pushed out the door. Her chest was suddenly aching. There was no way she wanted to break apart in public. She needed to get home, and her feet ate the distance as she hurried away.

* * *

She splashed her face with cold water and stared at her taunting reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair was sticking to the water on her face, and she looked a complete mess. The bruise was a nasty black and looked worse in comparison to her pale skin. Her reflection stared back at her with condescending eyes and she had to look away.

Wasn't it enough that she had to endure those looks from the rest of the world? Why did she have to look at herself the same way?

She should treat herself with more respect. She deserved better. If she didn't treat herself better, then who would?

People said that often, but those who did were not alone like Claire was. They had a few acquaintances to smile with while walking through the streets of town, or maybe a sibling to relate to. In Claire's case, though, it was true. She really felt like she had no friends.

She was an only child, but she could honestly say that didn't bother her. It was easier to run away from the past when there was no one to hold her back but herself.

She didn't mind having no friends. Having friends meant setting herself up to get hurt. She had gone through enough betrayal and pain to last a lifetime. She knew better than to try getting to know people since everyone thought she was shy and boring, anyway. There wasn't even a family to be there for her.

Claire's expression contorted and her heart clenched.

She still blamed herself for what had happened.

She shook those thoughts away. It was definitely not the time to think about that right now.

The orange bottle of antidepressants rumbled as she snatched it up and dry-swallowed a couple. Then came more painkillers that Trent dropped off that morning.

She roughly dried her face and left on the towel from her shower twisted in her hair. On her way through the living room, she refilled the fireplace so the house would bake.

Back in her bedroom across the house, she tossed the towel on the floor and went over to her closet. She never gave much thought about what she was wearing, as long as it was long-sleeved and kept her warm.

In flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, she threw herself onto the bed and buried her face into a pillow. Her body shook with silent sobs, but the tears did not fall. It was as if her body was no longer capable of crying correctly. Her eyes welled up, but the tears never fell, and they disappeared just as quickly as they came. All she was left with was violent wracking; a pretty uncomfortable feeling, to cry without tears, but she was getting used to it.

Claire was a broken branch graphed onto unfitting trees. Ever since she was a child, she was a mixed drink of one part left alone, and two parts tragedy. She was raised with a personality made up of tests and pills, and she lived like the up-hills are mountains and the downhills were cliffs. She was consumed in tidal waves of antidepressants, and went through an awkward adolescence filled with being called _popper._

The feeling in her grew to be painful as she remembered those times. High school was awful. She swore she was never meant to make it past those years – a belief she still secretly held to be true. Those were tough years - some of the worst.

As a senior, she tried to kill herself when a kid who still had his mom and dad had the audacity to tell her to _get over it_.

Her nails dug into her palm. The memory made her seethe.

As if depression was something that could be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit. Of course, no one at school knew what she'd been through and had gone through at the time. No one could be trusted. They were all shallow and filled with the bullshit understanding that everyone was that way. Those were the people who went home to families. Whose problems consisted of boys and fashion and curfews.

All Claire remained, was a conversation piece between people who couldn't understand that sometimes being obsessed with pills had less to do with addiction, and more to do with sanity.

Every time she walked into a class, she would look around and wonder that if a kid broke in a school and no one around chose to hear, did they make a sound? Were they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people said things like, _kids__ can be cruel_?

After being transferred from school to school, moving around the state, Claire realized that every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies – all of those who were miles ahead of who she was.

She was a freak. An oddity. Juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of herself and heal.

But at night, while the others sleep, she would keep walking the tightrope. It was practice, and was always on the verge of falling.

To this day, she was still a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe in detail the way the sky bent in the moments before it was about to fall.

She built a cast around her being over the years. How else could she still be here? There were no other rational reasons for her to come up with.

Claire first joked when her sessions started with Dr. Trent that she had a black belt in the martial arts discipline of emotionally retarded. She she'd seen people worse, people who opened the lid on a can of worms that they used to bait a hook and go fishing for sympathy. So she knew she was not alone in it all. She was not the only one with problems, and her problems were not unique.

In therapy, Claire had made a personal promise that every time in the moment before she was about to speak, she would remind herself to shut up and say something. To bring herself to each problem and focus armed with mountains carved into pebbles, and the true story of how and why she did it.

Claire sat up and rubbed her sore eyes.

To this day, Claire knew full well she would never be perfect. On a long enough timeline, everyone failed. Success was not immortal.

What Claire felt was not about the loss of success. Success was not her goal. The only goal she had, was not feeling worthless. That was possible, it had to be. So many other people felt worthy of life. She had to.

Time spent in isolation taught her too much. She was able to observe her past, present, and the lived of people around her. She was void of personal attachments during those times. She had no pride, no possessions. It was raw observation for the sake of developing, of growing into something more than she'd ever been before. Being alone was about accepting. It was not about understanding. It was not about getting answers. All she needed was closure, and that was a different thing than answers.

It was about…she didn't even know what it was about…it all happened to her because they – her family, neighbors, relatives, friends – believed she had drawn the short stick in life. So how could that not be her fault? She must have done something to make them all do this to her… right?

There were mountains stacked for her blame that piled in and on her. She was mentally sick, and immensely so. It was in the same way that a person hoarded materialistic things in their home, beyond the point where it is unsanitary. Yet, those people could not stop packing more in. Everyone from the outside assumed those people were pathetic and stupid. _Just throw it away_, they'd say.

_We can't._

It was the same concept. Claire had held on to so much from her past that it made her sick. The illness was dreadful. Terminal. It was more than being able to let go at this point. Her walls were moldy from tears. Her rock bottoms were war trenches. The best parts were stained with dust.

She was ready to collapse.

Try and get help as she might, nothing was going to change in her life. She knew it.

Claire had moved dozens of times in her life. There was no such thing as home. Mineral Town was a last hope. She was ready to give up, to be done with the stress of being around. Mineral Town was meant to be more.

It was supposed to be her near-life experience.

It wasn't the locations that made her low. Claire carried everything with her that it made every place the same. She figured that out one day as she watered her crops, staring into the burning sun that left spots in her vision for hours.

She could run from others, but she could never run from herself.

And she hated that.

She hated herself. Hatred was branded in her eyelids. There was comfort in her self-loathing because it was familiar. It was all she knew. Claire wholeheartedly felt she deserved to be treated poorly because she did nothing to earn better. Being ugly and insignificant and useless was much easier to justify being than having a sense of something. _Anything_.

She deserved nothing.

The hatred never branched out to more than herself. Others were not to blame for her feelings and unpleasant situation. It was her fault. There was a reason these things happened to her. Even with Elli, Claire could easily point all the fingers at herself. If she was more sociable, happier, prettier – she could be a better from to Elli. She could be what she needed. Claire could be _so much better_.

Her chest heaved erratically. This was all too much for one sitting. This was a low. This was a definite low.

Isolation taught Claire about forgiveness. A teacher had once asked her if she could forgive. Claire scoffed – of course she could. She forgave people easily. They deserved forgiveness. When he then asked is she could forgive herself, she brushed him off.

_Naïve._

It had made no sense at the time. What did she have to forgive herself for? There was nothing to forgive.

Time led her down a road that ran in loops through his words. Situations came up all around her where forgiveness was needed. Only when she was beating herself up again for the nth time did the impact of his words hit her.

She forgave people. She truly did. That forgiveness did not come with forgetting, though. It wasn't even a true form of forgiveness. It took years of analyzing her state of being to see that in forgiving others, she was shifting the blame to herself. All of the hatred was pointed to herself. She took the guilt, the responsibility, and shamed herself for it. There was never any letting go, just shifting in the playing field.

Claire did not know how to forgive herself.

The way she learned to stop it from happening at all was to not trust people. To never let them close enough to hurt her. She could be an enigma, a shape-shifter in each crowd. Fill the crevices they needed. Not an individual, just a background character.

She'd been doing it for years. The solitude and lack of opportunity to reveal her true colors to anyone made for some serious damage. Nothing was fixed. She was a blistered mess of seeping infection that was never able to dry and heal.

Being alone had been easy. Now, it was killing her. A slow death she inflicted upon herself.

She's done this. She refused to trust, to open, and to accept opportunities. The past blinded her future.

Strange how all this time she was avoiding the urge to succumb to her self-inflicted end, but all along, had been stepping right in it.

Maybe…

Maybe that was her fate.

Claire dropped her hands and clutched her rough knees. It wouldn't be that hard to get it all over with. Her impure mind had constructed a few very legitimate ways to go about it.

She stared at the small drawer in the nightstand, almost as if she could see through it with her imaginary ex-ray vision. That particular drawer held her pills. The pills.

Maybe they were enough… _maybe…_

Claire opened the drawer and picked up the orange colored container. She leaned back against the headboard, and stared at the container as she played with it in her hand. She knew what kind of relief one single pill gave her, maybe it would be enough to end it all if she took them all?

_Was it worth a try?_

Wind scratched the house and the muffled echoes filled the room. Her eyes didn't waver from the container.

Her life and death was in that container. She was still holding on to the container as if her life depended on it.

And she thought that, in a way, it was.

She removed the lid and shook out the pills in her clammy hand. She counted them silently in her head. There were fifteen of them left. There used to be twenty.

_Fifteen should be enough…_

She inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly.

_Fifteen had to be enough._

She was not taking this crap anymore.

She didn't have any water, and she didn't have the energy to go get some either. So she knew that she had to take the pills slowly, just a couple at the time. She smiled sadly, silently hoping that this would be the last thing she would ever experience. _Acceptance._ This was her last day on this earth.

Claire raised her hand and was just about to throw three of the pills into her mouth when a sudden noise scared her senseless. She looked at the door on instinct, but she recognized the noise. It wasn't a knock on the door. It was a knock on the… window.

Claire slowly turned her head and saw a very upset Trent staring back at her.

"Swallow those pills and I swear to the Goddess I will kick this window in and stick my arm down your throat and pull them back up myself!" His angry voice was barely muffled by the glass. "Now, go unlock your front door!"

"There's a box by the doghouse for the front," she said, and he nodded once before disappearing out of sight. He didn't need her to elaborate.

Claire strained her ears as she tried to hear him get into the house. But there was no sound whatsoever. She frowned as she wondered if he had changed his mind and maybe gone home.

"Open the door…"

His voice was barely audible – and it was behind the door. She looked at it in surprise, before she finally got her senses together and made her way over to the door, clicking and opening it.

He gave her a curious look as she walked back to the bed. He closed the door behind him and clicked the lock back on. He gave her a crooked smile as he noticed her looking.

"You seem paranoid," he mused. "Locking the windows and the doors like this." He glanced at the pills that were now spread out on the bed. "I guess you didn't want to get interrupted."

"What do you want, Trent?" she asked with a tired sigh to mask the embarrassment of being caught as she collected the pills and put them back in their container.

He plopped down on the bed and leaned back casually against the headboard as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there. He almost looked comfortable. She put the container back in the drawer before sitting down on the bed. She was careful to keep her distance.

"So, Claire, what brought you over the edge tonight?" he asked, clasping his hands in his lap. "Why tonight? Why not years ago? Why not this afternoon? Why _now?_" He sounded so clinical when he spoke, a true doctor asking his patient where she was hurting.

She looked up at him, feeling defeated. His gaze was hard, but the cold melted away almost instantly as he met her gaze. Her desolation had been plain on her face. "C'mon, Claire, what the fuck?" he almost groaned as he leaned his head back against the wood.

She fumbled with her hands in the silence.

"Trust, remember? I have your back…"

She smiled sadly at him. She wanted to believe him so badly, but she was so unsure. How could she trust him?

_Did it matter?_ He was there. Somehow, he was there.

"Don't I know it," she replied honestly. He smirked and chuckled as he shook his head.

"There is always more to some people than we originally think," he took off his black coat and dug in the pockets, suddenly drawn to it as if he had just found that particular thing out, the answers inside of the material. "All people aren't shallow pools, like Karen or Zack or anyone else in this forgotten town."

"And some of us have lived in a bubble. A bubble made of titanium or something," Claire looked him over. "You never had a reason to see past the looks of people; you never needed to really get to know anyone. People love you."

"Some things wouldn't have happened if some people had some backup." She met his intense black eyes. There was so much conflict in there. He had so much stuff to figure out, and he had no idea where to start.

"And by some people, you mean me," Claire sighed. He gazed back at her for a long moment before answering.

"That's exactly what I mean."

When he realized she wasn't going to look back up at him, his attention was back in his pockets, searching.

The familiar sound of capsules against plastic shaking brought her gaze back to him. In his grip was a new bottle of medication.

"I was going to give these to you tonight because I thought you needed a refill," Trent put them back in his coat. "Turns out you've been keeping secrets, though."

"It's not…"

"Claire, I give you these pills under the assumption that you take them to get better. That you have intentions on getting better. And you…"

He swallowed a lump in his throat and rubbed the stubble on his face, pinching his lips and clearing his throat.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and almost pleading. "Claire, I'm serious. I swear to all that is holy that I will have to report to the authorities about your plans if you don't…" He trailed off, giving her a pointed look.

"If I don't what?" she croaked.

"You will not kill yourself. It's as simple as that. There's no _if_ in that equation," he whispered.

Claire finally felt the hatred she wanted to feel for him. He was standing in the way of her only way out. He wasn't going to let her die, even though he had no reason to stop her.

He knew he was torturing Claire by threatening to tell the authorities about her plans. He knew he would get her in serious trouble. He knew.

"Trent…" she pleaded, but he just shook his head.

"I don't know why in the world you had these plans tonight, and I honestly don't doubt for a second that you will actually go through with them. But if you killed yourself, it would be as if I did it myself…since I knew about it, unknowingly supplied you, and let you go through with it anyway…you make me responsible because I could have prevented it. Is that fair? Making me a killer just because you think your life sucks?"

In a weird and twisted way, his words made sense. Of course, that made her hate him even more.

How could she put him in that position? It was wrong. It was beyond wrong. It was… wrong.

"Trust is something you earn," she whispered in return. A flash of recognition lit up in his eyes. He knew exactly what she meant by that; it was a doctor to patient thing that had built up in all of their sessions.

Claire shook her head, and he finally realized he was gripping her chin. He let go of her and sat down on the edge of the bed instead.

"Damn it, Claire, what do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I want nothing from you."

"Well, there is something I want from you… and that is that you keep on breathing. Is that too much to ask for?" His voice rose in frustration, and she glanced passed him at the door.

She turned her eyes back to the doctor and gave him a sad smile.

"I can't live just for you, Trent," she sighed.

She could almost see the waves of anger that rolled off of him.

Trust may be something earned, but Claire had pushed it too far by giving him too much. He knew about her plans, and she guessed that was wrong.

How could she tell him? It didn't matter if she wanted him to trust her, so she could trust him, or whatever. Trust wasn't the issue here. Telling someone else about her plans to kill herself had nothing to do with trust. When she finally kicked the bucket, he would always have to live with the fact that he had known about her plans, indirectly making him a killer by letting her go through with it.

"Can you please leave?"

Trent ruffled his dark, messy hair and his face contorted. "I can't do that. You can't be trusted alone for a while now. We need to schedule another appointment sooner than we originally thought."

Claire's dry sobs were coming back, "Just leave!"

"I can't, I already told you–"

"Elli needs you, someone else needs you. Go away!"

"Elli would have me by the throat for a lifetime if I left you in this condition. You either come with me, or I'm staying."

Claire's shoulders collapsed, her neck bent forward, "I don't want to go anywhere."

He waited for a minute. "Is it Mineral Town that you don't want to be in? Is this where you want to be?"

The sobs wracked through her, and laid down, back to him, curling into herself.

"I'm not trying to force you away. But I need to find out what is working for you. I need to find what will work for you. If you want to stay, I will always be here for you. Elli will be, her family will be. If this isn't what you want, where you want to be, you're not stuck here. We will understand."

Her body shook and no answers came for a long time. He wanted to comfort her in some way, soothe her back or give a hug, but it was strictly not permitted for him to have that sort of physical contact with a patient, no matter how close of a family friend they were.

The silence was awful. It was her heaving that deafened things, and his anguish that made it worse than it had to be. He had sympathy for her that couldn't be expressed properly. He felt so bad for her. Claire was a wonderful human being, but she could get lost in herself to the point of no return. He would never admit to anyone how badly those times scared him. How tonight totally shook him it.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he eventually spoke.

"What?" Claire protested.

He gave her a look and snorted. "Yeah, good luck trying to get me to leave."

"And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be comfortable?" she asked, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest.

"Trust me, Claire, knowing that you're safe in bed is more comfort than you'll ever know. I don't need to worry myself tonight."

She relaxed in a way that made Trent flinch. It was like she went numb and limp.

His fists scratched his head and he held back a cry of his own.

The silence was killer. It was not wanted and neither were his words, but they were needed.

"You deserve more than you give yourself."

"Yeah, and what exactly do I deserve?" she asked, defeated, but honestly curious because she didn't think she deserved anything.

Trent's anger faded, and Claire guessed he had caught on to her doubt.

"Everything. Whatever you want, you deserve it. So tell me, if you could choose anything in this world to have, what would that be?"

She smiled sadly into the sheets, already knowing what she wanted. There was only one thing. There had always just been one thing. She always thought she would get it someday, but then her life crumbled away before she even hit puberty, turning her view of the world upside down and making her doubt everything she had ever known. And of course, effectively removing her will to even breathe anymore.

There was only thing.

"I just want to be loved."

He looked at her, not really knowing what he was supposed to say.

She just wanted to be loved. Such an easy concept.

Apparently not easy enough.

What kind of crazy wish was that, anyway? Trent swore for a majority of his life that being loved one of those fundamental things that everyone got, no matter how horrible or how good they were, but being a doctor had shown him that, that wasn't always the case.

He couldn't blame her though; her family and friends from way back in her early years – the little he knew of them – did not show her that she was worth loving in the first place.

He didn't even need to ask her if she meant loved as in loved by family and friends, or loved romantically. Her tone and her situation answered that question for him. She wasn't asking for romantic love. She just wanted to be loved. Period.

He didn't know what to say so the words lingered between them like a thick blanket. She tensed, growing uncomfortable with the silence, too. He sighed and left the bed, even though every fiber of his being told me to just stay.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid," she mumbled. Trent turned his head to glare at her, but she was just looking down at her bed sheets with glossy, vacant eyes.

"What are you apologizing for? Are you apologizing for wanting something that everyone else takes for granted? Are you apologizing for wanting something that you should already have? Don't you dare apologize for something that's not your fault," he snapped.

She looked up, shrugging sheepishly. "Can you blame me?" she asked softly.

"No, I can't. And that's the worst up thing of all," he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "But things are different now. You're blinding yourself to that. We make mistakes, we all do, but when you love someone, their mistakes come with them. Elli's family and I all come with mistakes, but we care deeply for you. You have love, Claire. You are deeply loved."

He watched her intently. Her breathing was jagged and she was sobbing again.

"And someday, someone will love you in deeper and more complex ways than we can give you. You're deserving of that, and your time is well overdue…but it will happen, trust me. Someone out there is desperate for your love, just like you're eager for theirs."

She shifted on the mattress and shifted her weight on one elbow, looking up at him. He was breathing deeply through his mouth and looking up to avoid tears from falling.

There was nothing she could say. Tonight overwhelmed her, and it certainly pushed Trent overboard. Her emotions were spiked and if they continued to talk, it would get a lot worse before it got better. She couldn't handle another downward spiral for the night. It was going to burn out her mind.

Claire lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"There's extra blankets and pillows in the supply closet by the bathroom," she muttered, voice scratchy.

His footsteps echoed on the floorboards, and she heard the door whine open and slowly shut. The sounds of his wandering in the main area were stifled and she drowned them out.

She bashed herself for not doing anything right. She kept pushing people away.

She closed her eyes when she felt them well up with tears that would never fall. She was both physically and mentally exhausted, and it didn't take long for her to fall into a restless slumber.

* * *

_Please review. Each of them make my days better._

_Also, the next update may take more than a week. I am moving and won't be settled in for another week and a half. Have a great week._


	5. Dinner Disaster

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: Long chapter, so I hope you're all happy. This story will start out T and eventually turn into M for more mature themes. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 5: Dinner Disaster**

The cabin smelled like firewood and breakfast. Trent finished washing the dishes and finally quit trying to dry them when he realized he didn't know where they went. The leftovers went in the refrigerator: a stack of pancakes, bowl of eggs, and a small plate of bacon. He wasn't a great cook, but he wanted to prepare as big of a breakfast as he knew how to, to make sure Claire would get food in her.

Someone knocked frantically on the door, and knowing whom it was, he tossed the dishrag on his shoulder and went to answer.

Elli dashed inside the moment the door was open.

"Where is she? Is she doing okay?"

Trent shut the door and hugged her close. They kissed briefly and his heart hummed for his lover.

However, it was not a joyous time.

He caressed her rosy cheeks, "It's okay. She's in the barn tending to her animals."

"How is she holding up this morning?"

Trent sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Best way to describe it, is that she's on autopilot."

Elli frowned and looked around. She could smell the food and was happy they'd had something to eat – she'd made extra this morning at her place after she got the phone call about last night. Her heart was aching, pounding like a log beating a door down, and she still hadn't calmed. Her attention was back on her fiancée, his eyes rimmed with shadows and his hair a wet mess. At least he showered.

"How are you?" she grabbed his hands.

"I don't know. I'm trying to be strong," he leaned in and pulled her close. "Goddess knows that wasn't an easy thing to come across."

"I feel awful. I don't know why she'd do that."

Logically, the both of them knew it was a possibility. Any person as severely depressed like Claire had the possibility of doing it. They understood it. The fact just wasn't easy to accept.

Having a loved one commit the unthinkable did that. It made it seem as if there were no logical explanations: only shame, guilt, and responsibility.

Her eyes welled with thick tears and she fell into Trent, not willing to break into heaving sobs like she needed to. He soothed her back, and she copied the action on his.

"She's my best friend."

A thick lump was in his throat. The past year of getting to know Claire had made him very emotionally attached to her, despite his efforts to remain professional. Elli was the most important thing in his life, and Claire was a packaged deal. Claire was a sister in many ways, and he loved her dearly.

"I know."

Her nose rumbled with a deep inhale, "What are we going to do?"

"She already knows she's coming in to the clinic with us today. Do you mind running the counter while I stay with her?"

Elli rolled her forehead on his chest, "Of course."

"She didn't eat much of anything for breakfast. A loss of appetite is normal, but I'm hoping by dinnertime, she'll feel up for a nice meal," Trent held her shoulders and leaned her back to look her in the eyes. "I'd like to take my girls out."

Elli wiped her nose and smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

He kissed the top of her head, "I think so, too."

"Has she talked to you yet?"

"No, we haven't talked about it yet. It's up to her to tell me, so don't try forcing answers out of her any time soon. She's bound to be vulnerable with defenses high for a while."

"Do you think she'll let one of us stay here for a few nights, just until she gets back on her feet?"

Trent sighed, "I haven't worked out all the odds and ends. It's difficult to say."

Elli rested against him and took a deep breath, squeezing him.

"Did you tell your grandmother?"

"No, Claire doesn't like for her to know details. But she is wise enough to see it."

"And what's Stu doing today?"

"He and May are with Carter."

Trent nodded and made small talk about Stu with her while walking over and putting his coat and boots on. They would leave once Claire was all done with her animals.

"Do you know what triggered it?" she whispered, tucking a short strand behind her ear.

"No," he tied a scarf on. "But there are things I'd like to discuss to help her see the power in her actions and how it would affect others."

She nodded, "She doesn't see herself clearly."

"None of us do," he assured her. "We all have twisted views of ourselves."

Both of them heard the barn doors being shut tight and they knew the conversation was over. They watched Claire through the window, walking with her head held low, back hunched and hands deep in her coat pockets. The snow was coming down lightly with a cold breeze, her hair swooshing with it.

She stomped off the snow from her boots and made her way in, facing the door as she shut it. Everyone was quiet. Elli's first instinct was to run up and ambush her best friend with hugs and questions. Trent held her waist when she started forward. He wouldn't make Claire come to terms with that at this time.

The beanie was in her hamper from the sweat and oil it had collected. Today, she had on a plaid Russian winter hat with the earflaps undone.

The change in temperature caused her head to pound, and she slouched her way to the bathroom as Trent and Elli stared. She had trouble getting the cap off because her hands were numb and sweaty, but she washed away all the dirt from work and dry swallowed a few pills.

The fire was low in the living room and she ventured towards the company. She'd do whatever it took to have as little hassle as possible.

"Ready to go?" Trent finally spoke up.

Claire shrugged, "Ready as I'll ever be."

They left in single file and she locked up the house behind them. They walked together, even as Claire tried going behind the couple. Trent held Elli close, but was patient with their friend.

"How's your head?" Elli asked.

"Fine."

"I heard you taking some medicine," Trent looked over. Her face was still tilted at the ground. "Painkillers?"

"Yeah."

"How's your forehead looking?"

"Same."

He pressed his lips together, nodding. "It'll take a few days."

Elli waved at Lillia on her farm, dressed in stylish winter attire with her hair long and loose. Her daughter came out of their small house and was complaining about her brother.

The walk was not peaceful, but bearable. Trent and Elli discussed plans for the upcoming holiday, trying to put a light mood and make Claire feel comfortable in an easy atmosphere. She remained closed and in her bubble of solitude.

Officer Harris was outside his home, shoveling the walkway. He had a brief conversation with Trent.

Sasha was hanging decorations outside her store for the holidays. Everything was at peace in Mineral Town. Everyone was at home in the village. It was cozy and welcoming, the villagers were kind, and it only made Claire feel worse. This wasn't where she belonged. People like her didn't belong with people like them.

She wasted no time getting through the clinic door and heading straight for the therapy room. Elli took a deep breath and swallowed her emotions. More than anything she wanted Claire to feel better. To feel loved and needed and wanted.

They stripped off their winter garments and Trent draped the doctor's jacket on his arm while the nurse tied her apron on.

"I'll see you in a while, love," Trent kissed her fully, caressing her cold face and nuzzling her nose. "Wish me luck."

"Don't hesitate to ask for help," she murmured. "I love you."

"Always," he promised, giving her one last kiss before following in Claire's footsteps.

When the door clicked shut behind him, the ambiance changed. On the opposite side of the room was Claire, sitting Indian style in her usual spot on the loveseat, hat on, and coat on the floor. He took a seat in his chair and leaned back to get comfortable. This was going to be a long session. He listened to her steady breathing and matched it to his own.

"Is there anything you'd like to start with today?"

She played with her hair and shook her head 'no.'

"Do you mind if I bring up a topic, then? It's not last night, but it will help us reach better places if we cover the grounds, I think."

She didn't answer.

"You talked about your dad for a few fleeting moments before," he paused as her body tensed and hands curled into fists. "I think talking about your mom and dad would be useful."

"Why?"

"It could open new doors for you. It's something you've remained quiet about, but it is an important topic. You had a traumatic childhood, and you can't move on if you refuse to step forward. Does that make sense?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe you could start with something simple. A description of them, or a happy memory."

She was nervous. She itched her hat, chewed her lip, and curled her toes repeatedly. She found that when she would try opening her mouth to talk, nothing would come out. Trent was patient. This wasn't a topic she was ecstatic to go over, but then again, she'd never be. It wasn't supposed to be a happy or comfortable subject.

"My mom passed away when I was five."

"May I ask how?"

"She was in a bad car accident with my aunt and grandma. They…" she blew a sliver of air out. "None of them made it."

Trent shifted his legs, "What was your relationship like with them?"

"My grandma and aunt were never around. My mom went down a bad path in life, and when she ended up with my dad, they stopped trying to contact her. They weren't high-class people, but they were respectable in the community. I guess my mom never belonged with them."

"What about you and your mom?"

Her heart pinched. "She wasn't at home much. My parents loved each other a lot, but she never wanted to settle down and have a family. It was hard on her. I loved her, I missed her for a while, but my relationship with her was nothing compared to the way it was with me and my dad."

"Talk about your relationship with him."

Claire couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "He was my hero. My number one."

"Daddy's little girl?" he smiled.

"Yeah. We did everything together. He taught me a lot."

"Did that ever change?"

Her smile dropped, "When my mom died. He tried keeping it together, and he did for a while. For me. But a part of him died with her, too."

"Explain that."

"He turned lifeless. Like…" she swallowed back the tears that were forming. "Like she took him with her. He drank more after that. We weren't rich. We lived in a trailer, and he worked a lot to keep us going. It drained him. He didn't like being a nobody."

Trent scratched his chin and watched her hands fumble around. "Did his drinking cause problems?"

"It aged him. He was tired. He loved me, but it got to the point where I was the parent in the house. I cooked and cleaned and cared for him."

"Are you angry with him for that?"

"No, I'm not. I skipped a lot of school, which made it cool at the time. He was suffering and time only made it harder. My dad loved me, and when he was sober, he made sure I knew that. He didn't talk or move when he drank, and that scared me."

"Did you ever tell him that?"

Claire shook her head, "I thought it'd make him feel worse. I tried for him, I always did, because I knew he tried harder for me, but…"

"But…?"

Her body sank deeper into the couch and she hid her face in her hands.

"It was too much for him," she whispered so low he barely heard her. He observed her movements, the way her chest was heaving and fists forming and falling. He waited.

"I came back from the grocery store one night, and it was quiet. I called for him and…and there he was. In his room."

He put the pieces together. That was what he needed. She'd talked before about 'finding her dad' and running away. How the police found her and put her in foster homes, who were unfriendly, to say the least.

He had no idea what that meant, but now he could imagine it. On the floor, a dead parent, bloodied and limp, and not knowing what to do. She probably thought they would blame her, like she already did. It was all about the blame. He needed the answer to come from her, though. "This is going to be a difficult question, but why do you think he did it?"

She surprised him by snorting, and shaking her head, "Trent, it's not a question of why he did it, but rather…why he waited so long."

His jaw fell loose. The question would have been callous and cruel if she weren't wiping away silent, sneaky tears.

"What do you mean?"

She sniffed, "It was inevitable. He had nothing when he lost my mom. It would be selfish of me to assume he needed to stick around just for me. He knew what he needed…I was young, and I did nothing but take and deprive him."

"Are you insinuating that you didn't deserve a father?"

Claire pushed her sleeves up her hands to dry the tears. "It was my fault."

"Your fault? The drinking, all that he did – you think it was your doing?"

She nodded, tears building up and spilling over again. She wiped them away harshly with her sleeve. There was no use in crying over things she did wrong to herself.

Trent sat forward, making Claire meet his gaze.

"Let me tell you something. It wasn't your fault."

Her thoughts stuttered and she blinked. "What?"

"It was not your fault."

_Preposterous._

Trent sat back and looked at her, expecting something, apparently. She was stunned. She thought he would have understood. What she was saying was so ridiculous and far beside the truth it was almost funny.

_Of course it was her fault._

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She shrugged, looking away. The bit of trust she had come to have in the doctor felt like it had been shattered. It was as if he suddenly didn't know what he was talking about.

"You don't believe me?"

Meeting his gaze, Claire's expression fell. "No, I don't believe you."

"That's okay," he said. "Can you tell me why you don't believe me?"

She pressed her lips together and frowned, not willing to divulge in her wrongdoings.

The silence stretched. How could he be so relaxed after what he just claimed? Claire thought it was time for her to leave. Trent was obviously having an off day on the job.

"Tell me," he encouraged. "Why don't you believe me when I say that what happened wasn't your fault?"

Angry enough to overcome the walls she'd always had set up, she pressed her nails into her palms. "Why else would it have happened?"

Something flashed in his eyes, but he hid it so quickly that Claire couldn't figure out what it was.

"I don't know," he calmly answered. "But that doesn't mean it's automatically your fault."

Claire huffed, crossing her arms defensively. Of course it was her fault.

"Did he tell you it was your fault? Your father, I mean?"

Her body tensed, and she grabbed a decorative pillow from the chair beside her. She would be damned if she told Trent about that aat all. He just knew about her father and that was enough.

Trent nodded, her acquiescence making for a good enough answer. As if he expected that she would have indeed said yes. She clutched the pillow to her chest, upset. If he expected it, why would he even say that it was not her fault?

"We talked before about how the amount of violence in your foster homes did not seem to fit with your wrongdoings. Do you remember this?"

She nodded, once.

"How do you feel about that now?"

"I deserved it."

"You really think so?"

Another nod, and anxiety started flaring in her stomach.

"Tell me, and please be honest with me here, is there still violence in your life?"

"No," she whispered.

"Did you change?"

Her eyebrows pushed together, "What?"

"Are you so much different from how you were before, when your father was alive, or with your foster families?"

Claire slid down in the loveseat, eyes stuck on the ceiling tiles. "I don't know. Not consciously, but I must be doing something different…it should have become worse. I don't know."

"Have you done things wrong in your new life? Things where you thought you deserved punishment for?"

She cursed her blush when it flared, and Trent took that as a confirmation.

"And what was that?"

"I was born. I'm still alive."

"That's a gift, not a punishment. Let's be blunt, Claire. Have you done something horrific? Hurt anyone? Stolen? Spilled a glass of milk?"

Claire scowled, not pleased with the look on his face.

Her silence let him continue. "There has been no violence for your mistakes, no punishment?"

"No."

"Any idea why?"

"No. Perhaps it just hasn't happened yet."

"I want to go back with you to the moment you left the house after finding your father and ran away."

That information was in her file, and she didn't answer obvious questions. Besides, he didn't ask, he stated. She felt no need to reply and didn't think she wanted to know where he was going with that.

"What made you leave the only place you knew as home?"

Claire just looked at him, unmoving.

"Fair enough," he folded his hands. "I suppose I know the answer to that question. But you went to find someone – you went to find help, correct?"

Silence.

"What had happened just before you decided to leave — would you consider that your fault, too?"

Her stomach twisted and a bitter taste was filling the back of her throat. She nodded slowly, getting desperate to know where he was going with the talk. She felt like she was floating in space with nothing, no certainty to hold on to.

"Here's why I am confused. You say it's your fault, right? You are convinced of this, you just told me that you deserved it." He took a breath. "But if it was all your fault, why would he hurt himself? Why not hurt you? You tell me he loved you. You have always deserved love. Take what I am about to say into consideration, alright?" Trent leaned forward, making sure he had eye contact with her.

"Have you stopped for a moment while running away for all these years to consider that your father was much like you at your age now, doing the same things you do? Your actions are leading you to be like your father."

She didn't have an answer to any of those questions.

Her head was reeling at the contradiction of her own logic. Why _did_ she run, if all was her fault? She had been so convinced of that for such a long time, but she did run. _Why?_

Without realizing, Claire was shaking her head slowly, seeing nothing as she tried to process the myriad of questions that were wreaking havoc in her mind.

"You seem to take the blame for things that are out of your control to extents that destroy you. You've been so deeply hurt by all the blame that wasn't originally yours. All those things that haunt you will light off like firecrackers every time you start falling, because it's what you know how to do best."

She sobbed.

"I can see why now. We need to work on that so the blame doesn't crush you, and so last night doesn't ever repeat itself. Thank you for letting me in, and for trusting me enough with these things."

She fell into the cushion and laid herself down, letting the cries loose. The pillow was in her face as she tried to silence them. Trent sighed and looked down at his hands.

A sense of relief came over him. They were going to end sessions like this when painful subjects were approached. It would feel so much better for her later when the emotional high wore off and her rational thinking came back. The weight would be life changing in many ways. She would be able to know the great feeling and heal faster by continuing to tread difficult grounds until they became smoother.

It had to get worse before it got better.

"I think that we should end here for today. I'm going to leave and give you some privacy. You can stay in here as long as you want, okay? Elli and I will be out there if you need us for anything."

She nodded into the pillow. Trent smiled sadly. It was a rough week for her.

He walked over and pulled a blanket from one chair and covered her with it.

"Thank you again for telling me all of this. You deserve better, but you have to allow yourself to, first."

Claire listened to Trent's heels click on the way out and heard the door open and close.

She was stuck in her thoughts. His words rolled through her and she couldn't let them go, but she couldn't just accept them, either. There must have been something wrong with his logic. There must've been.

She found herself chewing on the whites of her long nails in her stress, a frantic attempt to make sense of the thoughts. She needed to be alone.

_Not her fault._

That was not possible. She shook her head, frowning. That was simply not possible. Or perhaps he did not mean everything? Because she knew for sure that for a lot of the things she did, that Claire only had herself to blame.

That must've been it.

But Trent had an awful peculiar way of formulating it, didn't he? Because he asked first if she thought that she had brought the punishments on to herself, and then suddenly he said it wasn't her fault.

Claire thought that in a twisted way, perhaps she did bring it on herself, but never purposefully so. But that would mean that Trent is right, and that it indeed it wasn't her fault.

He was biased in her opinion. He was saying things to make her feel better, not things that were actually true. That had to be it. There was no other way around it. Her head was pounding from the stream of ideas. Nothing made much sense.

She leaned over and reached for her coat, digging through the pockets to find her treasure. In one pocket came out a twist of wires and she smiled. She rolled around the couch and poked both earbuds in her ears. She pushed play on her iPod and tucked it in her jeans.

The blanket made her overly warm and cozy. The music mellowed her out, and her breathing became steady. She focused her energy on the lyrics. It was easy to relax and get lost in the music. Exhausted and defeated, Claire melted into the cushions and submitted to the call of sleep.

A gentle hand was rubbing her shoulder the next time she came back to reality. She felt like a loaded truck had hit her. The muscles in her back felt like over-chewed gum that someone had played with and stretched out.

She groaned and arched her back up. Her neck ached, but she languidly pulled the earbuds out.

"Claire?"

She hummed.

"It's time to wake up."

Her eyes stayed shut, but she reluctantly rolled away from the back of the loveseat and faced him. Trent was walking back to sit in his chair and smiled at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Achy."

"I'm not surprised. Emotional days do that to a person."

She nodded and inhaled strongly through her nostrils.

"Do you mind if we cover one more topic for today?" She sighed, but didn't stop him, so Trent went on. "Why are you here? Why did you run to Mineral Town?"

Claire breathed hard and closed her eyes again. Trent remained patient. She was sleep-ridden and focused on her breathing for a good chunk of time to give him her full attention.

"To be normal," she mumbled into the pillows.

"Do you consider yourself not normal?"

She shrugged. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Can you tell me why?"

Her brain jumbled with multiple reasons, and she was unsure of where to start. She couldn't take part in games. She was a social cripple. She was always afraid. She always messed up.

She just wanted to be normal, but at the same time, knew she would never be. Too much had happened, and she felt malformed to begin with.

"What are you thinking?" Trent asked softly.

"I don't think I can ever be normal."

"Not everybody would consider that a bad thing," he smiled. "A lot of people would give anything to be not normal."

"Not me."

"What makes you think you can't be normal?"

She rolled her face back and forth in the cushion, "I see others and I can't be like them."

"Elaborate." He was calm, encouraging.

"I don't know. Like, in interaction, or playing. I saw Elli with a group of friends the other day."

"And you wished you could join them?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to be in the way."

"Did she say you would be?"

Claire blushed and looked away. "No."

"But you felt like you would be."

Claire toyed with the blanket's fringe. "I don't want to push my luck."

Trent sat forward. "You think it's luck that your friends has been nice to you here?"

She met his gaze with wide eyes that she wanted to convey her sincerity in.

"Some stroke of good luck, then," he smirked. Claire was shocked with his compliance, and she sat up with a lack of grace.

"Good luck tends to avoid me…" She'd told Trent that before, not so long ago. That was why he was referring to it now, she guessed.

"But, if you want to call it luck, by all means," he spoke leisurely and sat back again. "It would be more relaxing though if you would start to accept that this is your new reality."

She crossed her legs.

"Just to be clear here — you think the Elli and her family are only nice for you for the time being, right? That they will turn against you any moment?"

How he guessed this, she didn't know, but he guessed right. Claire nodded.

"Why would they be nice to you in the first place?"

"I don't know." She'd been racking her brain about that, too.

"Could it be because you are simply a nice person? Easy to like?"

Her fine brows rose in surprise. "Hardly."

"Then what else?"

"So I won't run?"

"But if you are such a horrible person, why would they even keep you?"

Bit by bit, Claire's logic was crumbling. She shrugged to answer his question; vulnerable and unsure of her own voice.

"Tell me. There has to be a reason you have for all of this. This seems like something you've been over by yourself already."

Her jaw clenched. "So they have someone to blame."

"Ah," he folded his hands. "There is so much in that one sentence. I can't even cover that all in the time we have left. You feel like you are the one to be blamed for everything?"

"Yes."

"Even if it's not actually your fault?"

"Yes."

Oh. _Oh._

"With that note, I'd like to be done for today," he grinned wide. "It will do good to have time to think that tidbit of information over."

Her face was on fire. She pulled her hat down and sat up. Trent watched the blanket wrinkle at her ankles and foot bounce. The wheels were turning in her head, and hopefully for the better, because it was a big conclusion to get to.

He glanced at his watch, "Do you know you slept nine hours?"

Her face shot up, "What?"

"It's half past seven. In fact, I was wondering if I could take you and Elli to dinner at the inn tonight. What do you say?"

Her appetite was back, that was for sure, and the low growl vibrating from her stomach at the mention of food was proof. "That… sounds really good."

"Great," he got up. "Get your coat and let's hightail it out of here."

When both of them were back in the lobby, Trent switching his professional white jacket for a black pea coat while Claire was zipping up hers. They were quiet because while Elli was shrugging on her coat, she was chatting on the phone. She was visibly frustrated and upset with whomever she was talking to.

Claire awkwardly shuffled her feet and watched her hair sway. The rumbling in her abdomen was getting painful.

Elli slammed the phone back in the receiver. "I can't believe him!"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Elli buttoned her coat up, "Stu! He's at May's and is throwing a tantrum. My grandma wants me to go down and get him now. I swear he has these on the worst days."

"We won't mind coming with you," he looked at Claire to make sure, and she nodded in agreement.

Elli sighed, "No, you two go and get warm. Order something with chicken for me, then I don't have to wait either." She went on her toes and kissed him.

"You sure?"

"Positive. I'd rather get some food in me sooner than later."

"All right," he walked both women out and shut off the lights and locked up behind them. Elli turned to Claire and hugged her tight. Claire held on for a long time, enjoying the feeling of her best friend being so close for the first time that day. Trent kissed her, and they parted ways. Mayor Thomas was just going to his house and shouted a hello at them.

No snow was falling and the streets had a fresh, hardly touched, gleaming blanket on them.

"The stars look great tonight."

Claire looked up to admire them, "They always do."

"That's true. The winter makes them really shine."

"It was never like that in the city."

"No, I can't imagine they would be." Trent made an effort for their small talk. It was obvious that they wanted food more than conversation. Their pace picked up when they hit the turn and the windows gleaming with warm light, muffled voices echoing in the street. He held the door open for Claire and she smiled in return.

The warmth was instant. A burning fire was raging in the fireplace, where a visiting couple was huddled and drinking tea.

"Welcome to the inn!" Ann weaved her way to them. "Table for two?"

"Three," Trent corrected. "Elli will be here to join us in a bit."

"Alrighty!" she gestured for them to follow and hopped to a table near the center. "How's this?"

Trent looked at Claire, and even though she was uncomfortable with it, she nodded.

"Great, here're some menus. Can I start you guys off with anything to drink?"

Trent motioned for Claire to go first when they'd seated. She ordered a hot chocolate, while he ordered tea for him and Elli. Ann smiled and wandered off.

"Thank you for letting me take you girls out," Trent fixed the cuff on his button-up shirt.

Claire scoffed, "I'm the one who should be thanking you."

"I suppose we're both grateful people, then."

She observed the people around them. Most tables were filled with locals. Visitors for the night were in private clumps at a few tables. They all seemed decent enough. She would be okay here.

"Are you okay?"

She looked back to him. His dark eyes were retracing her gaze.

"Yeah," she adjusted her hat lower. "So, how are the wedding plans going?"

"What can I say? That's probably a question better suited for the bride."

He picked up a menu and Claire followed in suit.

"She's going dress shopping in the city after the holidays. Are you going with her?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I have to try on bridesmaid dresses."

"Fun."

She snorted, "Loads."

"I ordered a tux. I talked to Carter about the date. That's the extent of what I was put in charge of," he grinned. "And what do you know? No screw-ups."

Ann was back with the drinks. She pulled out a pen and pad to take their orders. Like she asked, Trent ordered a Chicken Alfredo for Elli and spaghetti for himself. Claire got a burger, and Ann collected the menus and was off again.

She held the cocoa with both hands, cherishing the heat.

Trent sipped his tea. "How are you right now?"

"I'm…" she sighed. "Numb. You?"

"I'm tired, but otherwise pretty good."

Claire instantly felt guilty, "I'm sorry, Trent–"

"No, stop right there. Don't start apologizing. This was not something…"

His eyes switched from her, to something behind. Claire sat back and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Her heartbeat froze and gushed a deep red on her face when a warm hand gripped her shoulder. They pulled her back and she looked up.

Gray had his hat on with relaxed clothes. The dark, hooded squint of his eyes made her breathless.

He bent down, and her panic set in. _Oh, no_. There was no way he could do that in front of Trent. In front of her doctor. In front of her _therapist_.

But he did. His lips slammed on hers and would have pushed her back if his hand has not gone to the back of her neck. The kiss was ravenous, desperate and hot as hell. Gray's mouth enveloped hers, nipping, sucking and moving all over, covering every inch of both her lips. His mouth was warm, wet and slippery and made Claire's whole body rigid.

_Oh, no._

He licked her bottom lip and pulled back. Her hand ghosted up to her used lips.

"Hey, baby." Gray left a hand on her and moved his attention to Trent. He was sitting back in his chair, mouth agape, and his wide eyes on Claire.

"What are you doing with my girl?"

The question was for Trent, but the shock still silenced them. Gray was unfazed and unaware of how sour the atmosphere had turned.

Claire was horrified.

Looking back at Trent, her eyes started to water and go glossy. _Oh, no._

She'd forgotten about Gray the past day and a half. It felt like a whole universe away from now. Trent had no idea about their kindling relationship – if Claire dared to even call it one. Nothing was official. Now, he was all over her, _in public_, in front of him. The look in his dark gray eyes was filled with questions.

Her hand covered her mouth completely. She was appalled. Trent was confounded.

Gray spoke up again, "Hey, I asked you a damn question, _doc_."

Trent's attention snapped to his, "Excuse me?"

"The hell's going on here?" Gray glared at Claire.

She whimpered from the toxic glare he gave her. Her face was burning.

"Claire?" Trent didn't hide the concern in his voice.

She shook her head and pushed Gray away, then stood up and went for the door. Gray was on her tail, and Trent snapped out of his shocked state and went after them.

The cold froze her wet eyes, but Claire tried getting away as quick as possible.

Gray was faster, and latched onto her arm and shoved her back, "Claire!"

Trent came barging out and ran to her, "Hey!"

"Back off!" Gray shouted at him. "Who the hell do you think you are, being with her like that?"

"Same question for you," Trent hissed.

Gray turned to face him fully, "Who do you think you are?"

Trent glared at Gray, "You're one to talk. You just sexually harassed her, and you're lucky if she doesn't call the police for this."

"Sexually harassed?" Gray's nostrils flared violently. "Fuck you!"

Claire gasped as Gray's hands grew into fists and he stepped forward. Trent stood his ground, but Claire's heart was thumping overtime as she launched herself at Gray and held him back with all the strength she had. It was hardly anything on his much larger stature, but her arms wrapped rightly around his waist and she begged wildly for him to stop.

"Oh, my Goddess!" From the distance, Elli turned the street and was running to the commotion. Gray was shouting at Trent, who was giving him a piece of his mind back. Elli was breathing hard and took an immediate hold on Trent's arm when she got to him. She was demanding to know what was going on, and Claire was crying into Gray's back.

Her headache was exploding and she couldn't handle it anymore.

"Stop!" she screamed, tensing up against Gray and pulling him back as best she could. They stopped bickering, but the steam was pouring from Gray, and Trent was glaring right back.

"What is going on here?" Elli cried.

Trent placed his arms protectively around her, "Gray sexually harassed–"

"No!" he shouted, one hand slipped down to hold Claire's tiny ones, clasped in his front. "You little fuckin' cheater. You're out with another girl and you blame this on me to look good?"

Elli gasped, "What?"

Gray snarled, "Your prissy little doc was on a date with her!"

"Date?" Trent demanded. "We weren't on a date, you idiot! We were waiting for Elli!"

He looked at them and his eyebrows pushed together, and before he could say something, Elli interrupted.

"Claire, sweetie!"

Gray was suddenly aware of the wet spot on his back and her small shaking body, still holding on to him desperately. He swore and rested his other hands on hers, which instantly took his.

"Oh, Goddess," Elli's heart broke.

Trent breathed hard. "That doesn't excuse your actions towards Claire. You don't even know her."

"How are you to say that shit? She's my...my…"

Elli frowned, "Trent, he and Claire have been…seeing each other."

"Why's it any of your business?" Gray hissed.

"Stop it!" Claire cried out. "Just stop!"

She didn't want Trent to know like this. She didn't want him to know about anything that wasn't set stone and her sanity was crumbling as everyone but her talked about it.

"Claire, talk to us," Elli pleaded.

"I want to go home," she pleaded.

"Okay," Elli nodded. "I'll walk you and-"

"No," Gray's hands clutched hers tighter. "Shit, no. I'll take her."

"I don't think that's a good idea…"

Gray frowned at her, and she looked at Trent, who obviously agreed with her. But Gray refused to let Claire go like this, a wallowing mess because of him.

"Baby," he turned her around with trouble until he was in front of her, her arms still securely around him like she was frozen there.

"Claire, what do you want to do?"

She sniffled and hiccupped for a while before shaking her head and mending completely into Gray. "You guys go enjoy dinner, please. I'm not feeling it anymore, I'll make something at home."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

Elli sighed, "Okay. Promise me you'll get something in you?"

"Yeah."

"Let me come with you," Gray whispered in her ear. She submitted to him.

"Okay." She would do anything at that point to get Gray far away from Trent. Her friends bid her a good night, watching as Gray held her in his arms and went into the street.

No words were said. He carried her down the dark streets, her body frail and practically weightless in his clutch.

Her house was dark, the windows reflecting the cold outside. He carried her to the door, where she dug in her pockets for the house key and eventually unlocked the door. They stomped the snow off of them and flicked on some lights. The first thing Claire did was shed her coat by the fireplace and throw more logs in. She started a fire and ignored Gray as she strutted into the kitchen and pulled out a cold pancake from the fridge.

He watched her eat, her back to him, nibbling on the food while staring out of the window above the kitchen sink. He wasn't wearing a coat, but the chill hadn't hit yet. Adrenaline and anger were still vibrating through him. He waited to speak up until she swallowed the last bite of her pancake.

"Baby–"

She swung around, "How dare you!"

He froze.

"You stubborn jackass! How dare you do that to me!"

He stomped forward, "You weren't exactly innocent in this, either!"

"Excuse me?" she gasped. "I was the one trying to have dinner when you ruined it!"

"Hell no," he snapped. "Don't blame this crap all on me. What was I supposed to think when I saw you with that guy all alone?"

"Nothing, you weren't supposed to think anything! It was dinner, Gray. Dinner with _my doctor_."

"Who goes to dinner with their doctor?!"

"He'd my friend!"

"Who the heck is a friend to their doctor?"

Claire huffed, "Me!"

He glared at her, "Something's so off right now, I swear to the Goddess that there's something you're not telling me."

"Maybe because it's none of your business."

"No!" he threw his hat off. "Don't play that shit with me. What the hell aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing!"

"You're keeping secrets!"

"I don't want to keep secrets!" she cried out in frustration. All of this was coming down on hard on her. She had no idea how she could deal with Gray anymore, and going back to therapy would be intense. She felt awful about what happened to Trent. He was only protecting her. That's all he ever did. Claire deflated. "Never mind. Leave me alone. If you won't apologize to me and Trent, then you can just leave."

"Why should I have to apologize to a freakin' guy who accused me of _sexually harassing_ my girl?"

"Because he's my friend."

Gray rolled his eyes, "Yeah, okay. Do you call every guy who humps you a friend?"

She gasped. His words stung and she seethed, "You need to apologize and leave _now_."

"Like hell," he snorted. "Why should I say sorry to anyone when I'm the one being played?"

"No one is playing you!"

"I'm not stupid," Gray yelled. "Do you take me for stupid?"

"Maybe you are," she marched forward, closing the big gap between them. "Because you're stupid enough to make these kinds of conclusions."

"What? That you're suddenly buddy-buddy with your doctor just because you got a concussion? Bullshit!"

"I'm sick!" she shouted, unable to take his accusations. It wasn't a lie, because depression was a mental illness. She threw her hat off and showed him the bruise. His eyes went wide. "Yeah, I just had a concussion and I'm hurting. But I've been hurting for a long time, Gray!"

"Hurting?" he mimed, eyes on her bruise.

"For years," she admitted. "So, there. You know-"

"Years? How sick are you?"

She frowned and she felt vulnerable, "Very."

"Like…"

"Not every day is a guarantee," she fell silent.

"Holy fuck."

Gray's nose scrunched as though he had smelled something bad. But it was the ache that had taken over his body at the sound of the words that had left Claire's lips that caused it.

He wanted to kiss her again. Goddess, he needed to. He wanted to hold her and tell her he was sorry for being an insensitive, arrogant prick; but he wasn't built like that. His inner walls, although crumbling, were still high and tight in many places. He was emotionally impotent. Ironic.

He took a small step towards her, hoping that she would see it as his way of apologizing, his way of connecting with her, but she held her hand up to stop him.

"Don't," she said firmly. She shook her head and looked at her shoes. "I'm done, Gray."

"No," he growled, shocking the hell out of himself.

"Yes," she bit back. "No more kissing, no more charm and turning up at the inn. No more meetings. End of story."

She moved away from him and opened the door to let him out. As Gray took another step towards her, she turned back to face him.

"Please," she pleaded in a voice that was so young and innocent he couldn't help but think of the fateful night they had met. "Please, Gray. Don't make this harder for me."

"You haven't even heard me out!"

"You didn't hear me out at dinner, either."

His heart dropped. She tried hiding the tears in her eyes, but he was victim to each one she wiped away.

"Baby…"

She covered her mouth and hugged herself. She stepped back several times and turned away. "Go."

"Baby, wait," he called after her as his feet began moving swiftly after her.

He had no control over that. _Gravitated_. He came to a dead stop when she turned back to him.

"Let me stay here," he said softly as the last of his armor dropped heavily to the floor. "Don't let it end like this…just…"

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't let you stay and sleep with you and get lost in you. I can't simply forget everything that-"

"No," he interrupted with his palms up in surrender. "I don't want to stay for that. Shit, I…I just want to stay…here…with you. Just…you and me. No bullshit."

Claire eyed him warily and began to shake her head. "I…"

"Please," he begged. "Please."

Her shoulders fell, and she slowly looked up at him. He was vulnerable for asking and her heart ached for the sight.

"Fine." She sighed. "Couch is yours for the night."

She rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He just stared, and when she emerged minutes later, he was still standing there.

When she went to her bedroom, he stayed put for a minute before following after her. She had changed into pajamas, and she looked up.

They stared at one another, both feeling the tension change infinitesimally from hurting and upset to heat and wanting. It was a slow but intense build up that had the power to make the bedroom walls heave in anticipation.

Gray walked closer to her and let the back of his index finger skim across the outside of Claire's left wrist. He heard her take a large breath, and watched, entranced as her chest lifted under the thin fabric of her top. The electricity surged between them both, and, for one moment, Gray thought that she was going to kiss him.

Good Goddess, he wanted her to kiss him.

She didn't.

Instead she swallowed tightly and took a slight half step back from him. "Goodnight, Gray," she said quietly.

Gray blinked through his desire for her and nodded lazily. "Goodnight, baby," he whispered.

He smiled gently and made his way out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned against it for a second, hating the physical and emotional distance between the two of them. After knocking his head against it several times, he plodded over to the sofa and threw the pillow down in aggravation at himself.

"Idiot, Gray," he seethed at himself through clenched teeth as he gripped at his hair. "You're a Class A idiot."

He threw himself down onto the sofa, clutching his smokes in his hand and sparked one as he lay back and scowled angrily at the ceiling. He knew what he needed to do to make this better. Claire had told him. All he needed to do was tell her that he was sorry and that he hadn't meant to be so hostile towards Trent. The thing was, at the time, he had meant it. He had just been so angry with her. With him. With the whole messed up situation.

His mouth had joined up with his hurt pride and protective caveman instincts and spewed a load of nasty things that he knew would shred Claire to pieces. She had been devastated, and understandably so.

He blew the smoke out towards the light fitting and closed his eyes. She was here. His Claire was here and she was in bed. He rubbed his bare chest with his smoking hand, and pulled the wool blanket up to cover his body with the other.

Sucking on the last part of his cigarette, Gray began to consider the path on which his and Claire's relationship was now on. The fact was that she had let him come over. She showed that she was willing to fight for what she wanted. She wanted him, and that thought alone made parts of Gray grow warm and tight while paradoxically sending chills up his spine.

She had been right when she had told him that he was scared.

This was why he denied the intense feelings that bubbled up whenever he was around her. This was why he had worked on shutting her out with his words, armor, and ego.

Scared? He was petrified.

He was scared that she would hurt him – whether it was intentional or not. He was scared that unimportant and interfering people would come between them and drive them apart. He was scared that her friends would tell her that he was insane and no good for her and that one day she would wake up and realize that they were completely right.

But most of all, he was terrified that he would eventually let her down.

Like he was doing now by not apologizing.

But what would happen if he didn't? She would make him leave, and he wouldn't blame her. He would plead to stay, but he knew that she would be doing the right thing. That was why he hadn't been able to leave tonight. The selfishness inside of him just couldn't let her go. She would be his for one more night. His chest twisted painfully at the thought of losing her. He had promised himself that he wouldn't; that he would keep her for as long as she would have him.

He just had to apologize.

He sighed and flicked his extinguished smoke into the garbage. He pushed his arms under the pillow, under his head and closed his eyes, trying to slow down his brain

_In the morning_, he thought. _In the morning everything would be fine._

* * *

Claire didn't know how long she had been asleep when she opened her eyes to the still dark room. She nuzzled the covers that were tucked around her shoulders and breathed deep.

She was still annoyed at herself for accepting his sleep over proposal, but was equally proud of herself for not kissing him when every part of her body had screamed at her to do so. The man would be the death of her.

Her body was exhausted and her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as the dull throbbing headache persisted behind her tired eyes. She felt weary and battle worn. She had tried to explain to Gray, from the very first moment, why she was so angry and why she was with Trent, and yet, he had still fought her.

She wasn't sure what she would do if he couldn't or wouldn't apologize. He seemed sorry, and he certainly looked apologetic when she had told him that they wouldn't work if he didn't say it, but she needed to hear it from him. She wanted to know that he was as invested in them as she was. She didn't need candlelight, flowers and romance from him – he wasn't like that, and, truthfully, neither was she – all she needed were two simple words. It would be a huge step for him, Claire appreciated that, but he had to do it, for both of them.

With the covers still tucked close to her body, Claire wriggled and moved so that she was lying on her back. The squeal of fright that left her, when she noticed a large body lying on her right, reverberated around the room like a damn siren.

"Shit, Claire!" Gray exclaimed as he grabbed her arm as it flailed out in panic. "It's just me! It's just me!"

"Goddess!" Claire gasped as she slumped back against the pillows. "You scared me to death."

"I gathered," he replied timidly as he released her arm slowly. "I didn't mean to."

Claire narrowed her eyes in the darkness, tracing the strong outline of his jaw and the chaos on the top of his head. Her heart slowed from her initial fright, but maintained a steady thump at Gray's close proximity.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, suddenly very aware that she was only dressed in her pajamas and he was still naked from the waist up.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered softly. "I, um..."

Claire remained quiet as she listened to him take a couple of deep breaths.

"I can leave," he offered with a hint of distaste. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfor-"

"You don't," she interrupted. She cleared her throat. "It's alright."

"Yeah," he replied as he scratched his chin.

The silence continued, as they stared at each other in the darkness.

She suppressed a yawn and discreetly snuggled further down under the covers. As she pulled them, she realized that Gray was lying on top of them. "You must be cold."

"I'm fine."

"Get under," she said with an eye roll.

"Baby, it's fine. I'm-"

"Get. Under."

She heard him laugh lightly with a soft breath down his nose, and watched as he stood, pushed back the quilt, and got back underneath it.

"Okay," he admitted as he adjusted a pillow. "It is a lot warmer under the covers."

"Stubborn ass," Claire muttered as she rolled to her side, leaving her back to him.

"I know," he murmured sadly.

Claire froze at the tone of his voice and felt her heart skip a beat when she felt him move closer.

"Baby?"

"Mmhm."

"I…I'm…I…" He shifted closer still, until she could feel his body heat against her back. "Thank you letting me stay."

Claire closed her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened as the hope in her receded. "No problem."

She was sure that she heard him curse to himself, but she wouldn't allow herself to wonder why, and she definitely wouldn't allow herself to think that the gentle, tickling sensation down the center of her back was his fingertips.

She lay for ages as the sensation continued, across her shoulders, down her right side; across the small of her back, and let the tears spill silently from her eyes.

"You're right, baby," he whispered eventually.

She didn't move, nor did she respond. Instead, Claire lay still and waited for him to continue.

"I am a stubborn ass." He sighed. "And I was a blind fool."

Claire clutched her pillow and scrunched her eyes tightly shut.

"And I…" He cleared his throat. "I've been lying on that couch out there for three freakin' hours, thinking about what you said to me."

Gray paused his fingers at the base of her neck and swallowed. She was so close, there were mere inches between them, but she was still so very far away. He could sense it in the tension of her body and the stuttering breaths that left her. He hated it. He hated that he had caused it.

He had to be closer to her. He had to have her closer, nearer. He closed his eyes and began to talk, praying like hell that it would bring her back to him.

"I need you to know that…I am scared." He laughed without humor. "I'm terrified. I need you to know that I would never keep anything from you, and that I'll tell you anything that you wanna know. I don't want secrets either, baby."

He moved the very tips of his fingers to the edge of her top between her shoulders.

"I need you to know that I will get jealous, and pissy, and act like an asshole because that's all I know. I don't like men looking at you, talking to you…and if they touch you, I…It drives me insane," he growled as his voice took on a quiet, dangerous tone. "But I also need you to know that I'll try to…I'll try to talk instead of pushing you away or fighting with you. I don't want to push you away, baby, and I hate to fight with you. I can't…"

He sighed again and fought back the fear in his chest and throat. He felt like he was about to jump out of a plane without a damn parachute.

_Save me, baby. Catch me._

"I need you to know that I want you, too."

He gradually let his fingertips press gently against her back, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

"The truth is, Claire, baby…the truth is, from the moment I saw you at the inn, I wanted you."

"Gray," Claire whispered with a soft sob.

"No, baby, let me finish, please," he urged as he closed his eyes and pressed his palm against the skin at the small of her back.

Touching her made it easier. Touching her was all he ever wanted to do. He took an enormous breath and let it out slowly through his nose.

"I need you to know that…" he began, feeling his heart race. "I need you to know that…" He licked his lips. "I need you to know that…I'm sorry."

He felt Claire sink under his hand and her shoulders began to shake.

"I'm so sorry for what I did," Gray whispered. "I didn't mean it, Claire. I just hurt so much, and I…dammit, I…"

He stopped as Claire started to turn over and gasped in surprise and unfathomable relief when he felt her hands on his face and her mouth hard against his. He groaned into her and wrapped his arms quickly, desperately, around her small body, pulling her over him as they found each other again.

"Oh God," she moaned. "I'm sorry too," she said as he wiped at the tears on her face. "I'm so sorry. I hate to fight with you, Gray."

"I know it, baby," he replied as he kissed her again. He sucked in a ragged breath as their tongues met.

She gripped his hair and kissed him so hard that Gray's head span. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm sorry."

Gray pulled her closer and knotted his hands in her hair as her thigh slipped between his. "Me, too," he muttered against her sweet lips. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Dammit, I'm sorry, baby."

Claire smiled against his mouth and hushed him. "It's okay," she crooned. She kissed his chin soothingly, lovingly. "We're okay."

Gray nodded and pressed his nose to hers. "Yeah," he sighed, feeling his lungs relax and grow. "We're okay."

"We're in this together," Claire said as her palm slid gently down the side of his face, "Right? You're with me?"

Gray smiled and let his lips brush lightly over hers, "Of course I'm with you, baby. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I don't want to be anywhere else."

"Me either," Claire whispered.

Gray cupped her face and kissed her softly as the crack in his heart started to heal under her touch.

He smiled and closed his eyes. "We're in this together," he echoed, "Just you and me, baby."

* * *

_Please review._


	6. The Enigma

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: This story is now rated M. _

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Enigma**

Gray learned three things over the next week.

One: Claire kicked in her sleep. She was also a blanket hog. She was somehow capable of rolling the blankets around _just_ herself and then cuddling into the warmest thing nearby, which luckily, was Gray. By the fourth time they were getting ready for bed together, he learned to grab an extra quilt for himself.

Secondly: Claire did not speak unless spoken to. He initially assumed she was shy and needed time. But, she wasn't the type to thaw and melt into the niche. One night at the inn, he surprised her by having her meet his group of friends. He knew now that he'd never make that mistake again.

Third: the ancient Webster's Dictionary had a use besides holding up a leg of the couch. It could actually _define _things. When he found the word he was looking for since he jogged home from work earlier that day, he threw the thing book and whipped his hat back on and ran to the farm.

He usually changed out of his heavy work uniform immediately after his shift was over, and he realized he should have as it weighed him down and slowed his pace.

The adrenaline of finding that word drove him forward. Dammit, he was proud. He was always proud and excited to show Claire something new. Or to give Claire something. Or to be around Claire. Touch her. Look at her. Think about her.

_Pussy_, he thought.

The snow fell down more over the last week and decorated the town generously. Even with Claire's trail to her house, her small footprints were useless for him. Gray plowed through and fell into her house without knocking.

A heap of snow fell in with him and his boots immediately echoed throughout the place. It was overly warm, as usual, and dimly lit with the fireplace crackling and the smell of peanut butter sticking around.

"Claire!" he looked around for her and shut the door with too much force. "I got it!"

"Wha…?" she called out. He looked over and saw her peeking over the couch with sleepy eyes. He was over in seconds and holding her clammy hands in both of his calloused ones.

"It's crazy, you know? I've been looking for hours in this stupid old dictionary that we've had since the elder's civilization shit for hours because someone said a word once and I couldn't remember it, but I found it."

She opened her mouth but nothing came out, and Gray hunched over her. "You know what you are?"

"Uh…"

"An _enigma_. A person who is mysterious and difficult to understand."

"I know what an enigma–"

"Goddamn, baby, it took forever. But, it suits you so freakin' well. You have no idea how crazy that makes me."

She didn't say anything, she only blinked slowly and breathed deeply. Gray took in their surroundings. He looked over his Claire.

Claire was curled up on the sofa like a small cat, dressed in an old shirt and sweats. Her right cheek had a red imprint of her hands being clasped under it, and her hair was tousled and wavy, and lay around her like a golden halo. She was half asleep and Gray couldn't help but smile down at her as she pouted and sighed.

Gray sat down quietly on the edge of the coffee table and simply looked at her.

She was beautiful. He'd never seen anything more so, and, weirdly, it seemed that her beauty increased every time that he saw her. He'd never been one for beauty. Of course, he knew a smoking hot woman when he saw one, but his baby was so much more than that.

She was naturally stunning, with spectacular skin and plump lips that ached to be kissed. Her eyes would be the death of him, officially, and her body was magnificent. Her curves were all woman and entirely perfect. He'd gladly spend his life getting to know every inch of her, and, deep in the back of his brain, a small voice pleaded with her to allow him that exact pleasure.

Gray wasn't stupid; he knew that he was in deep with the woman before him. He knew that she was in his mind and heart and that she had the latter well and truly soldered to the palms of her small hands. He just prayed to all that was holy that she would handle it with care should she ever become aware of that fact. The damn thing was already too scarred to cope with any more damage.

He exhaled long and low at that particular thought, and let his eyes roam greedily, yet reverently, over her sleepy, confused form.

Yeah, he conceded, if he were able, he would sit and watch his woman sleep forever.

Of that, he was completely certain.

Moving slowly from his spot, he kneeled by her and let his fingers whisper across the side of her face. She blinked slightly and mumbled something that he couldn't decipher.

"Baby," he murmured as he let his nose travel up her jaw. Dammit, she smelled good. "What are you doing on the sofa?"

"Mmm," she answered. Gray could see her eyes moving under the soft lids.

He slid his palm down the skin of her forearm. "Wanna go to bed?" he asked with a small smile.

Claire breathed in deeply through her nose and nodded. Her eyes remained shut but her lips twitched at the obvious innuendo in his voice.

"Come on," Gray said as he pushed his right arm under her legs and his left under her shoulder.

"Wh-whatcha doin'?" she croaked as she flailed a little in hazy awareness.

"Taking my girl to bed," he replied as he stood. He clasped Claire to his chest as he gingerly made his way around the couch. "Sleep, Claire," he crooned softly into her hair.

"You're here," she whispered into his neck in sudden realization as Gray walked in the direction he knew her bedroom was in. "My Gray is here."

Gray snorted gently and felt his chest squeeze at her words. He noticed with relief that her bedroom door was open, and made his way inside.

"I am," he kissed her temple. "I didn't say I would be, so I guess I kind of broke in, I was so excited to tell you stuff."

"S'okay," she mumbled as he placed one knee on her bed and laid her down on it. She instantly whined as he pulled away and clutched his jacket.

"I'm coming back," he smiled as he kissed her lips and wandered back into the living room to grab the extra blankets.

Even though it had only taken him sixty seconds, by the time he returned to Claire's bedroom, she was snuggled under the covers and was, once more, out for the count. Gray laughed lightly as he placed his blankets at the end of the bed and shook off his jacket, jeans and boots, and T-shirt. He hissed and cursed as he stretched his back, feeling his entire body ache. He could have done with a hot bath, but he had been so eager to get to Claire that all he had done was wash his face and slip some boots on.

Gently, he pulled back the covers and slid in next to Claire. Before he could maneuver himself closer to her, she had turned over to face him and was curled tightly into his chest: warm, sweet, and humming in contentment. Gray flinched as the top of her head pushed against his jaw.

"You smell good," she muttered dreamily into his chest as she wrapped her arm across his stomach.

"You smell good, too," Gray chuckled, "Peanut butter-y."

"Pure elegance," Claire retorted with a small yawn as she nuzzled him.

Gray closed his eyes and nodded.

Holding her close, he kissed her hair gently and allowed himself to relax for the first time all night. His muscles throbbed and his brain hurt from his extensive word search. As slumber began to take him, he realized that there would be plenty of questions heading his way in the morning.

* * *

It was warm.

It was so freaking nice and warm and comfortable.

It was nice, warm, and comfortable, and for some reason, _hot._

There was softness and sweet scents and, if he moved his hips in a certain direction, Gray's bare body was rubbed in a way that made him breathe loudly through his teeth. His right hand quickly found a soft mound of flesh that he squeezed as his nose buried itself deeper into freshly showered smelling hair. He felt heaving in his palm and let his fingers rub around it in slow circles.

There was a moan.

That sound travelled straight into Gray, making him groan in reply. He let his finger get busy on that while his mouth latched hungrily onto the small piece of skin that was peering from under her hair. Gray let his tongue wander across the smooth, pale skin as his brain began to wake up and catch up with the rest of what his body blatantly wanted. He opened his eyes to see that it was still fairly dark, but had no clue as to what time it was or how long he had been asleep. Not that he gave a shit. He was spooning his lady from behind, in her bed, and she felt amazing.

_Fuck._

Claire started to wind her hips in a figure eight, teasing him with about fifty percent of the friction that it actually needed.

"Baby," he murmured into her shoulder as, once again, her hips pushed back eagerly against his. "Are you awake?" he grunted.

"Yes," she replied in a breathy, sexy voice that set his body on fire. "Goddess, you feel so good."

"You do, too," he answered while his palm trailed down her smooth stomach, between her legs. They both gasped when Gray's impatient hand played past the elastic of her shorts. "Damn," he sighed as his mouth touched the tip of her shoulder.

Feeling bold and desperate for her, he extended his hand and rubbed her peaking hipbone unhurriedly, making her whisper his name and grip the hair at the back of his head. He felt bad that his hand probably was like sandpaper on her silky skin.

She definitely made it seem the opposite of that, though.

Since the day after the commotion with the doctor at the inn and waking up to her for the first time, things had changed. At first, she gave him the silent treatment. That was dreadful, strange as it seemed in retrospect. Someone who hardly spoke to stop altogether – but it drove him crazy. It wasn't until he was dragged to the clinic and formally apologized to Trent like a grumpy child that things got better. Their relationship was able to flourish quickly, and that definitely included more physical contact.

Claire had never told him to back off. He knew that if his inner gentleman didn't shout at him, they'd done unmentionable things days ago. For someone as shy and reserved as her, Claire was really open to giving in their private times.

"Gray," she whimpered, bringing him back to reality. He pulled his hand out and rolled her over to face him while he climbed on top.

And they kissed.

And Gray lost himself to her.

Every part.

Every. Single. Part.

He lay back down, bringing her with him with his hands in her hair; holding her as close as he could. She melted against him, curving into his body: a perfect fit above him. Slowly, and with his mouth still fixed to hers, he rolled over, covering Claire's body once again, wrapping himself around her from head to toe; their limbs aligned exactly.

Releasing her lips with a quick flick of his tongue, and with a tender kiss to her chin, Gray pushed up on his palms and moved so that he was standing at the end of the bed. Keeping his eyes on Claire's, he flicked on the bedside lamp.

Without a word spoken, they both looked at each other as their eyes took the time to adjust.

Gray's gaze roamed down her body as Claire's eyes did the same to him. She was perfect, every dip and curve of her. She was pink. Heaving. Aching for his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," Claire whispered reverently.

Gray inhaled a shaky breath as he took in the expression on her face. She looked captivated, enthralled by him.

In a caring move that made Gray's head feel light, Claire gently took his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips. She placed tiny kisses across his fingertips and knuckles, nuzzling his palm and breathing in his wrist before she held it tightly against her cheek. Her eyes met his and every ounce of air he had held inside of his lungs left his body in a giant surge, leaving his heart stammering and stuttering in his chest, and his knees so weak that, had he been standing, he would have surely fallen.

Claire.

_Oh, Goddess._

She tilted her head up, and smiled slowly, "Hi."

He nodded back with a slack jaw and a pounding heart.

"Hello," Gray answered as his thumb traced her cheek. He watched her lie back down, and settled on his knees, between her thighs.

Taking her ankle in his hand, Gray lifted it to his mouth and placed soft open-mouthed kisses around it while her sweat pants hung around her knees, moving down to her foot where his tongue slid along her instep.

"Oh," she sighed, and bit down hard on her lip.

Next were her calves and the dip behind her knees. She giggled when his tongue came out to taste her there, but grunted as his palms ghosted over her skin, leaving goose flesh in their wake. He moved up and hooked both hands on the waistband of her pants and kissed her neck. She cupped the sides on his neck and traveled her fingers through his hair.

Her pulse was racing and her chest was dipping and rising like the sea. She was resplendent.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he placed a gentle kiss on her open mouth. She laughed and clutched a hand to her chest. Her eyes were closed but he could see them moving under her lids.

"I'm overwhelmed."

His heart skipped a good, unexpected beat and his hands moved to hold her waist instead. "In a good way?" He desperately hoped so.

"I think so," she giggled. "You make me feel…"

She finished the sentence with heaving, even breaths and a small snort. He smirked and rubbed his nose against her flushed cheek.

"Yeah?"

Her legs hooked around the small of his back and pulled him back onto the mattress with her in, snuggling them into the messy tangled of blankets and sheets. It was too warm for him, but he didn't complain. Claire always complained about being cold.

"Is it weird to talk about it?" she whispered, fingers playing and massaging his scalp.

"I would prefer it if you did," he pecked her lips and hugged her.

"You make me feel good, I just don't know if I'm…"

They waited.

Gray didn't press her. He knew she wasn't done or needing him to guess. Even though Claire (another note on the list of things he recently learned) was brilliant, she severely struggled to communicate. He gave her time and all the patience he could muster up.

"If I'm okay."

"I don't understand."

"I…" she whimpered in frustration. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Gray reached up to stroke her cheek and demanded she look him in the eyes. He gave her an intense stare. "Speak up."

"I'm trying," she muttered.

"I know, baby."

"I don't struggle with you." Her words caught him and like a fly to food, and he was obsessed with her all over again. She knew how to work him up. "You make it easy to feel better."

"Good."

"How do you feel?"

"Amazing," he grinned.

"Lucky you, because I'm cold," she complained and scrambled on the bed to pull up odd ends of blankets. "And it's only three in the morning."

"Let me warm you up," he grinned deviously. He tussled with her in the sheets, tickling any part of her he could hold on before she laughed and thrashed her way around. He bellowed with her, and easily snatched both of her wrists in one hand to lock them above her head.

"No!" she wheezed. "I swear, Gray, if you even think about–"

Gray pushed her shirt up and blew raspberries on her stomach. She wailed out and snorted several times, trying desperately to kick him off. His lips blew harder, and he laughed harder.

"Gray!" she panted. "G-Gray… no! I'm going to kill you!"

"Yeah?" he nipped her belly button and she squealed. "You're really scaring me."

"You're a big bully," she gasped, eyes boring into his.

"Are you sure about that?" his eyebrows raised in question, and when she nodded, he blew another long raspberry into her. She cried louder and he could feel her muscles flexing and going taunt under his attacks.

"Okay, okay! Stop!" Claire shouted. "Please!"

Gray blew lightly on her skin and topped off the flushed skin with smug kisses. She was so tiny underneath all of the baggy clothes she loaded on herself. Small seemed natural on her. He nipped her after another kiss, followed by a dozen more circling her waist. A breathless, shameless moan left Claire.

Gray released her wrists to hold her waist in both of his hands. She groaned at the warmth his hands gave her, and his thumbs pressed and massaged small circles into her. He blew a hot stream of breath on her skin, gently this time, and watching the goose bumps bubble up.

Arrogant by the way she so shamelessly responded to him, Gray looked into her eyes and found her deep blue ones already on him.

He played with strands of her long hair that lay by her waist while watching her bare tummy rise and deflate with breath. Interested, he shimmied up and laid his head on her sternum, hoping to tune in on her heartbeat and really see his effects on her. Then he slid a heated palm under and held her side, thumb soothing back and forth against her bra.

H heart was racing. There was something crazy about that. Something that made him crazy about that.

Dammit, he could go crazy over her for no reason.

He did realize quickly, however, that his full weight was pressing Claire hard into the bed, and that was just unacceptable. He made to lift off of her on shaking arms and knees, but she held him fast, crushing him to her chest.

"Not yet," she murmured into his hair. "Don't leave me yet. Just stay a while longer."

Gray didn't have the energy to argue. "Mmkay," he managed into the wrinkles of her shirt, to which Claire laughed a sweet, high laugh.

It sounded beautiful, but it also made the muscles in her body tighten and squeeze.

"Shit, baby," Gray grumbled as he pulled back his hips. "For the love of the Goddess, please don't laugh while I'm pressed up into your good parts."

She snorted into his arm, but did as he had asked. "Sorry."

"S'okay."

He felt her hands and fingertips as they danced lazily across his back and fought the urge to fall asleep as best as he could. With a sigh and a small kiss to her ribs, Gray slipped his hand gently from her. He was instantly aware of the loss.

"You're shaking," she whispered. He shimmied the rest of his way up to her until their faces were touching, and she kissed the corner of his mouth.

He smiled with his eyes closed, and raised his eyebrows. "I'll be alright. You just…"

His mouth came to a grinding halt as words completely eluded him. He opened his eyes and looked at her for inspiration.

"You, too," she finished for him as she stared deeply into his eyes, knowing exactly what he was talking about. She looked so stunning in her glow that Gray couldn't help but cup the side of her face in his palm and kiss her again.

He was greedy for her. He sighed as he felt her feet rub down the back of his thighs while her hands weaved their way into his hair.

"You know," he said as he released her lips and gazed down at her face. "Maybe the Goddess had it right." He let his index finger trail down her nose to her gorgeous bee-stung lips.

Claire tried to suppress her smile, but failed miserably, "Oh yeah? About what?"

He tucked her hair behind her ear and traced her lobe with his thumb. "About being with someone," he murmured. "About it being like heaven."

Claire's eyes closed gently at his words, and Gray prayed that he hadn't said the wrong thing. He shifted nervously and placed a gentle kiss to her throat. "Too much?" he hedged with caution in his voice.

She shook her head. "No," she replied as she reopened them. "It's exactly like that."

Gray knew that he could get lost in those large, blue eyes, and he would have, quite happily. He let his gaze wander from her forehead to her chin, taking in every line and soft edge. He realized that her smile had widened.

"It's rude to stare," she chided.

He chuckled and rubbed the tip of her nose with his own. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Gray's eyes rolled closed and he exhaled down his nose in contentment. He leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues touched briefly, tenderly and Gray's lips were still moving when she pulled away. His eyes fluttered open to see her gazing adoringly at him. His heart halted for one beat.

Feeling physically exhausted, Gray shifted down Claire's body and rested his ear back against her chest, smiling when he heard her own heart thumping quickly behind her ribs again. Her fingers moved leisurely from his shoulders into his hair, and she began stroking and massaging his scalp. He was almost asleep when he heard her whisper his name.

"Gray?"

His spine tingled. Never had his first name sounded so good as it had when she said it.

"Yeah?"

She wiggled a bit, "I'm cold. Pull some blankets up."

He snorted and mocked her, but obliged.

She sighed in content on being covered in so many warm layers, included the two-hundred-some pound heap of muscle space heater.

Silence was back and she was close to a drift.

"Shit, Claire! I almost forgot!"

"Huh?" her heart picked up and her eyes shot open.

Gray lifted his head to look at her, "My, uh, gramps knows."

"Huh?"

"Gramps knows about, like… you and I, and stuff. He caught me making some shit off to the side and, well… fuck, that isn't something I should talk about, but he asked about it and he found out about us and he wants to meet you."

Claire's jaw went slack, "Huh?"

"I didn't mean to spill all the beans, but it's not exactly easy to explain why you're making a – no, shit! Fuck, that doesn't matter. I told him about us. During lunch he said he expected to meet you soon."

Her eyes grew distant. He didn't think it was a big deal, per se, because she'd been around the inn and had been teased by Ann. She'd met his father, and they enjoyed each other's company. She made good impressions on them.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be soon or anything. I figured since you'd already met Ann and dad that it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but still. I know you don't like meeting people randomly and I needed you to know…so…yeah. I just…yeah. Will you think about it?" he was rambling.

Claire tried loosening her muscles. A cold sweat formed behind her neck and in her knees. Saibara was a scary man. He had a lot of power in his hands. He was Gray's mentor. That held a great amount of respect, even if Gray didn't think so.

Her self-doubt came back like a hurricane. She wasn't good enough for him, couldn't handle the pressure. She would never live up to his standards. It was all futile. This was a big joke – of course she'd never be good enough for him. He had a great life and career and family.

"Don't get distant," Gray groaned. "Baby, it wouldn't be the end of the world. We could just pop in before my shift starts one day so you guys can say hi and then you can be free. I promise. I won't let him do anything."

Claire's heart gave a resounding kick behind her ribs in panic, as she became simultaneously dry mouthed, and desperate for a glass of water.

A terrible thought crossed her mind: What if Gray's grandfather hated her? _Oh, no_.

"Baby?"

Gray's voice sounded miles away and she turned her head to face away from him. Claire had the oddest sensation that she was floating underwater, and as though she were underwater, she was suddenly unable to breathe.

"Baby," Gray said cautiously, as he arched himself up. "Are you alright? You look a little pale."

Claire opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She rubbed the center of her chest, willing her airways to open up. It didn't help.

Another wave of cold sweat crashed over her, shooting down her back like icy claws. _Oh, no._

What was she doing? She didn't do this type of thing. She didn't meet families – families of her... boyfriend? Goddess, now she was worrying herself over what she was to him.

She didn't ever trust enough to put herself in situations like this.

_Oh, no_.

It was laughable really, thinking that Gray's grandfather _would_ accept her.

He'd never accept her because she wasn't good enough. She'd never be good enough.

Stupid, stupid idiot.

"No," she muttered as she rubbed her face angrily.

"Hey," Gray sat up and softly pulled her hands into his, squeezing. "Just breathe," he whispered. "I'm here."

She closed her eyes tightly. "Gray…I…I'm not..." She gasped for air. "I can't."

"You're fine, baby. I'm here and you're fine. Talk to me."

"I need to…" She squirmed from under him and slid out of bed, pulling her shirt down, and rushing out of the room. In doing so, she berated herself more for running away from tough situations.

She was frustrated with herself. The kitchen tiles were cold on her bare feet as she marched over to get a glass of water. The faucet hissed as the stream of water spilled out and she didn't wait for it to get cold.

The day had been rough on her. She'd helped Elli with wedding planning and learned that she wanted Claire to accompany her on a trip to the city soon for dresses. The thought of being in a new, crowded place made her heave for more air.

Claire had therapy after five and it was tense. They had danced around the elephant in the room for as long as possible until Trent asked her about Gray upfront. She'd explained about meeting him a week before and becoming intimate. When he asked her why she hadn't talked to him about the newly formed relationship, Claire didn't quite know. She explained her fears in speaking something aloud and making it official before she knew for sure.

Now Gray wanted her to meet his grandfather. The most influential man in his life.

Claire had no idea how she was coping with the changes. Bringing someone new into her life was not part of the plan, not any time soon. She couldn't even fathom the thought a week ago about being intimate. Claire feared her body. She'd seen it enough in the past to be disgusted by herself and reject the sight of it.

Yet, that's all Gray liked to focus on. He was a hands-on sort of guy. He was easily frustrated if he didn't have anything in his possession. Gray himself was possessive.

Claire wondered if that was what she needed. It could be unhealthy and unsafe in retrospect. She was independent and more capable in isolation. Gray was the opposite. The guy recharged in social situations. He wasn't a parrot, though. He didn't require others to formulate his ideas and standards. He was stubborn and down to Earth.

He made her feel safe. Wanted.

Wanted.

Claire hadn't felt wanted in a long time. Not by herself, if ever. Because she knew who she truly was.

Awful.

Gangly.

Tired.

Dull.

Selfish.

She wasn't a Gray. She wasn't bold and proud, accepting or outgoing. Her true self was always tucked away and too afraid to reveal itself. She knew what people wanted to hear and she gave them that.

Trent had told her once that recovery would be easier for her because she was not someone who was "content with living in misery." No, Claire was not, but misery was her comfort blanket that provided answers.

She never voiced her real concerns or opened up about how brutal her thoughts were. She was afraid that if she ever did, she'd have to give an answer. She'd have to justify them. People would say they were wrong, and she couldn't live with that. That was incredibly ignorant of her to admit to herself.

She was afraid that if she accepted that she was wrong all this time about herself and life, it would be temporary, and when it crashed back down, she wouldn't recover from the fall.

Yes, Claire viewed herself very negatively.

She would decide in her mind to give up on a majority of opportunities before giving them a chance.

She complained over her own doings.

She looked mean, she thought mean, and she ignored her surroundings. Her temper was getting short.

She was an "enigma."

It was all things that she had to work on. Claire was just afraid of accepting the healing process, reaching a far better place, and then being hit with a trigger that could take her out for good; knowing that she had wasted more time than was necessary for being on this Earth.

"Claire!"

Gray shook her and Claire gasped, dropping the overflowing glass in the sink where the water still gushed out of the faucet.

He reached over and shut it off, then shook Claire again, "Almighty, woman! The hell is going on with you?"

She was gaping like a fish out of water.

"I've been shouting your name for a minute and you've been staring at that water forever! Fucking hell, talk to me!"

She looked into his blazing blue eyes and blinked rapidly to kill her unborn tears. She was horrified.

"It's just meeting my gramps. You're shy, yeah, but it won't be bad. You're freaking out like I've just asked you to meet the Goddess or some shit!"

_Shy?_ Did Gray really think of her as just being shy? Did he not see how mutated and destroyed she was, that she reacted that way towards people because she was shy instead of prepared for defense?

As she searched his eyes, which furiously looked between both of her own, she realized how different things were between them in a single place.

Gray had no idea who she was. He knew her schedule, thought she was shy, and liked being physical.

Maybe she really was an enigma to this world. To him. He didn't know her in the slightest.

"Claire!"

She let out a breath she'd been holding and looked down.

"Oh, no."

"What? What's wrong, baby?"

He had no idea of the hell she was in. He didn't see the wars she fought daily. He didn't notice the black bags under her eyes. Gray didn't see more than she let him, and it was her fault. She let him in, let him do things to her that she hadn't let someone in years do. He made her happy, didn't judge her. He treated her like he treated any other person. He had no reason not to, because she hadn't told him a thing about herself.

He still obsessed over her, anyway.

She trusted him.

The problem was, she didn't trust herself.

Claire reached up and cupped his face, contorted in confusion and worn from sleepiness.

"I'm an enigma," she whispered.

"You're really confusing me here, baby."

"I know."

"Then quit!" his eyes darkened. "You're killing me! I'm so fucking confused because I'm here, thinking I did something to make you upset, and I… just, I…"

His train of thought jumbled up and Claire perked up on her toes and grazed her lips back and forth on his neck.

"I, uh…"

"Thank you," she kissed his collarbone. She could feel his pulse quicken.

"Uh…" he wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his face to hers, crossing their noses.

She wove a hand through his messy hair and massaged, "I had a long day and I'm still overwhelmed. It's a lot to take in. I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Just Elli's wedding stuff, then some doctor stuff."

He tensed and swallowed.

"Are you ever gonna tell me about that?"

She still hadn't explained to him the _not every day is a guarantee _thing. He asked when the mood was sullen enough, but she'd told him not to worry. _Enigma_.

"One day," she spoke into his cheek.

Gray breathed hot air on her, "Sometimes, I wonder if you being cold all the time is a symptom of your... illness."

Claire snorted and giggled, "No. That's just how I am."

He shrugged, "Can't blame me for thinking."

"It's a start," she agreed.

He hugged her close and branded wet kisses on her cheek. "It scares me."

Her heart stuttered in the silence.

"I don't want to lose you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Gray," she whimpered. "It's the other way around."

"No, baby. You have no idea how good it feels to have you there for me."

She leaned her forehead against his and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You're more than I could have even expected, ya know? Shit, I didn't expect to find anybody in this anthill of a town. There you come one day, been there all along, and I'll be damned if I haven't gone crazy since."

She giggled to hide her sniffles.

He kissed her cheek again, "I hate knowing you're sick or that I could have made it worse by freaking you out. I want to be the good in your life, not the bad."

"You are," she held on tighter.

"Good, 'cause you're mine, too," he smiled and kissed her. It was sloppy and so very him. It was the kind of kiss that made her toes curl.

He shamelessly grabbed her bottom and groped her sides. She giggled and smiled broadly into the kisses and his lips traveled her face instead.

By the time his fingers were buried in her waistband, and a fresh hickey was branded on her jugular, Claire pulled back, "If we don't get to bed now, tomorrow's going to be a very long day for the both of us."

"Today, you mean."

"You know what I mean."

"Today's the Starry Night festival. You're coming to the inn, right?"

"I guess I am now."

"My dad and Ann will all be there for the dinner."

"Okay."

He distracted her with a round of deep, full kisses.

Then he added, "And gramps."

_Of course._

He was so good at getting what he wanted.

* * *

_**Please Review.**_

_**A/N: Hey, guys. I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates this past month and a half. Things haven't been so easy on me. I moved to a new apartment and then got really sick. I'm allergic to a material we use in my classes, and it has left me in the hospital quite a few times. I haven't been the healthiest lately. Things have been really down for me, and moving to this new place hasn't been so grand, either. I'm struggling, but I'm trying to be more productive and learn how to cope better.**_

_**Thank you for the messages and reviews. The support means a lot.**_


	7. Starry Night

_Greener Pastures_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: This story is rated M. **LEMON IN THIS CHAPTER. VERY SOUR LEMON.**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Starry Night**

There were gentle and nauseating sounds of light jazz renditions of holiday classics surrounding the company. Claire's hand clutched tightly to Gray's as they sat on the love seat in his dad's living room. The dimly lit cranberry scented candles and the white holiday lights on the tree made an eerie ambiance in the room.

It was the evening of Starry Night, and more people had joined the family than Claire had expected. She learned that somewhere along the line, the local chicken farmer, Rick, was a distant cousin of theirs, and so his family was over. Ann was the center of attention with her boyfriend, Cliff, who were across from Doug. He was pouring Saibara a new glass.

Claire was two seconds away from blowing chunks.

Gray was surprisingly chipper.

It was nice to relax and gorge on Doug's delicious cheddar tarts. Karen, who was posing as Rick's date, was already drunk on spiked cider and dancing around the tree. Claire was watching and waiting for her to trip at any moment. It was a fun distraction from the hot stare stuck to her from Rick.

Saibara was sitting on the couch and eyeing Ann's stomach. The man was far too observant for his own good, which was handy when it came to welding, but was annoying when he was being a meddling grandfather-in-law.

As Claire shifted in her seat, switching her gaze from Karen to Ann, she leaned into Gray and he soothed her back.

"How have you been feeling lately, Ann?" her grandfather asked. The ice in his whiskey was clinking in his glass in a steady beat, as he moved his hand slightly to rock the glass.

Gray swore the old man was hypnotizing him.

"Dandy. Positively dandy," she replied. "How's business going? Can you weld me a crown yet?"

Doug was sitting in a chair looking at his daughter with narrowed eyes. He sat his beer on a nearby coffee table, and Lillia flitted over with a pirouette to put a coaster under it.

"What were you two yahoos doing in that house on your fake honeymoon?"

Ann couldn't feel her hand. Cliff was squeezing it so hard that she was losing circulation. He started sputtering gibberish, so Ann clasped her free hand over his mouth. She addressed her father, "Whatever are you referring to, Papa?"

"Are you getting drunk every night?"

Gray snorted, and threw an arm around Claire, who had no idea what they were talking about. Cliff whimpered.

"Trust me, dad. Not an issue."

Rick slammed his cup of fake alcohol on the end table and blurted out, "She's pregnant!"

Doug jumped up from his spot and screamed. "They aren't married!"

"We are," Ann disagreed. "Kind of."

"Where's my gun!" Doug was the color of a red delicious apple. Ann mentioned how it was slightly fetching, how it _put some color in those old cheeks._

Cliff threw up in Ann's hand.

Then on her overalls.

Followed by the floor.

Claire gasped and shot up, pulling far away from the accident. The room was in full commotion now. Saibara was shouting at Cliff, Doug was shouting at Ann, Lillia was with Claire in the kitchen wetting paper towels to clean up Cliff's vomit, and Gray and Rick were over by the tree to help Karen, who had fallen into it.

"For the Goddess' sake," Lillia cursed. "Why do family gatherings always have to be like this?"

"What?" the color in Claire's face drained. "Always like this?"

She wrung out a heap of sheets. "It's always a mess. It takes me the rest of the year just to recuperate from them, just in time for it to happen again. I guess we can thank Ann and her hubby, huh?"

Claire filled a bowl up with water. "I didn't know they were married."

"Oh, technically, they aren't," she sighed. "It's a strange and complicated thing. You see, my daughter-"

A loud crashing sound interrupted Lillia, and they looked over. The tree had fallen over and Gray was no longer chipper, but screaming at Karen for her drunkenness.

"My daughter has been visiting her boyfriend for the holidays, who lives in this tropical area during the colder seasons. I didn't want her going alone – it's a far ways away – so Ann and Cliff went with her. Apparently, by the time those two came back, Ann said they'd gotten married. Married!" she scoffed. "When she showed Doug the documentation, they realized it wasn't officially legalized, so it's not official."

Claire walked over beside her to the living room. She shooed the crowd away and dragged Ann by the overall straps to go clean up in the bathroom, leaving Claire alone. She plugged her nose and prayed.

Cleaning up Cliff's vomit was not how she expected tonight to go.

She's taken three hours to get ready. It had been years since she got this dazzled up. The worst part was curling her long sections of hair, which were endless for hours. She didn't own much makeup, but the little she had worked well. She didn't have nice dresses, but she put on a nice pair of dark denim jeans and a creamy turtleneck sweater. She felt special for once. Like she had a reason to leave the house.

Her reason was giddy as ever by the time he came down to get her. Gray gushed about how good she looked and bruised her lips with a heavy make out session before they left.

He stopped her twice on the way to make out some more, until Claire complained about the cold and broke it up. Gray was a hands-on guy.

Meeting Saibara had worried her senseless all day, from the time she woke up with Gray's face on her stomach, to the second they entered the inn.

All for no reason. What actually happened made all the dread seem silly.

Saibara kissed her hand, complimented her farm, and thanked her for coming. That was it. The rest of their talk consisted of Gray being lectured on how to properly treat her.

A new round of shouting blared. Claire threw the dirty paper towels in the small trash bin, and her knees cracked as she stood.

The acidic smell was still pungent, so she weaseled her way around the corner to the bathroom. Doug, Cliff and Saibara were there arguing, and Lillia was wiping Ann off. Claire squeezed and excused herself through and was barely acknowledged. She snatched a gallon of ammonia and headed back.

She stopped in the hallway.

Rick was lecturing Karen, and she was just as angry with him. That didn't matter to her. It was the sight of beautiful, feminine Karen, draping herself on a very masculine, handsome, smoking Gray.

The look on his face would have made the moment priceless if Claire wasn't feeling vulnerable already.

Stung by her own thoughts, she quickly shuffled to the stain and scrubbed the area down. The chemical stunk up the air.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back in the restroom, she left the bottle by the couch and went into the kitchen to wash up.

"Hey!"

Claire jumped and dropped the soap in the sink.

"Who're you?"

Her heart sped up, but before she could answer, Gray stepped forward, blew smoke from his lips in a large puff, and pushed a clumsy Karen back.

"You leave her alone."

"'Scuse me?"

"I didn't fuckin' stutter. Leave. Her. Alone."

"Don't you talk to her like that!" Rick shoved a finger at Gray.

Gray's nostrils flared violently and smoke rolled out, "Why? You just did for the last ten minutes!"

"That's none of your business!"

"And Claire is none of hers," Gray got closer to Rick, and it made Claire uncomfortable to watch. Gray was big in comparison to anyone. Being 6'4" and two-hundred-something pounds of callouses and muscles was scary enough. He was also taking incredible drags from his cigarette that was dwindling onto the floor.

Next to an average sized guy like Rick made it daunting.

She'd seen him get like that the night with Trent. Tensed up and towering. Claire snapped out of her awe, dried her hands carelessly, and rushed over to grab Gray's clenched fist.

"Gray, stop."

"Yeah, Gray," Karen laughed. "_Stop_."

"Why don't you go fuck yourself, you little-"

"Gray!" His father was standing in the hallway. "Do I need to kick your ass tonight, too? Huh? You think I need this kind of-"

"Fuck off!" Gray pulled Claire so suddenly that she fell into him. "Get your shit, baby, we're leaving." He threw the butt of his finished smoke in the sink.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Out!" Gray whipped his coat from the rack and helped Claire into hers. "You think Claire needs to be here and see all of this bullshit?" He punched the door open. "You guys can't do shit right and act normal for once. If you need us, we'll be out enjoying the stars like we're supposed to."

Gray stormed out, Claire in tow. She was jogging to keep up with his long, furious strides.

The cold winter air slapped her face as they barged out. Gray didn't stop marching to talk. Instead, he raced them through the south bend of town, across her farm, through the woods, and away from other couples and families. Neither of them said a word the entire way.

When they stumbled onto a tiny clearing far away, Gray finally stopped and let go of her hand.

"Dammit!" he paced like a madman. "Goddess damn it all to hell!"

Claire said nothing. She watched him scream and shout, punch the trees, and kick a large stone. Fog from his hot breath rolled out like a steam engine. She took the time to replay the night in her mind. It all had happened so fast, it was barely comprehensible.

She wondered what was happening back at the inn.

"We can't do anything right!" Gray tugged at his scalp. "We can't have one decent time together!"

"It's okay-"

"No!" He spun around to face her. "Don't you dare say it's _okay_, Claire!"

"But it is."

"It's not!" he punched the tree again and Claire whimpered.

"Stop that, or your knuckles will be raw by morning."

"What else am I supposed to do?!"

"Calm down. Talk to me."

"Calm down? I'm so fucking done with this shit! They ruined everything: they ruined your night, my night; they were rude, disgusting, embarrassing… I can't handle this right now!"

Claire frowned and uncrossed her arms. She held them out for him and he stared at her gesture as if it pained him for a minute.

His heaving, stiff body hunched over in defeat, and he went over and fell into her embrace.

She was breathless from how tight he held her. His heart was pounding against her, and his breathing was a storm in her ear.

They said nothing. Claire hugged him, hid her face in his warm neck, and pressed several kisses there until leaving them rest on a vein.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Gray mumbled.

Claire shrugged.

"I fucked up. And… and…"

Claire's heart stuttered. "What?"

"I...I have to...there's...fuck..." He shook from head to toe and made a pained noise deep in his chest.

"Gray, you're going to have a panic attack," Claire coaxed. "Please-"

"No!" he said loudly, too loudly for a being right in her ear. "I need..." His chin dropped to her shoulder. "I have to say some things first."

Claire felt her knees buckle slightly and found herself leaning on him for support. _Say some things?_ She swallowed. This was it, she thought. This was what she had dreaded the most.

Moving slowly, Gray pressed his forehead gently to Claire's, and cupped the side of her face.

He took a deep stuttered breath that made his large shoulders tremble.

He lifted his head, as though it weighed a hundred tons, and slowly opened his eyes. The color of them was much darker than they'd been before. His large, deep pupils, however, bore into Claire in such a way, the air in her lungs abruptly disappeared.

"You're everything," he said with a slow shake of his head, his gaze never wavering. "And I can't be without you. It really sucks to think that I could have fucked everything up tonight. "

They breathed heavily, clinging to one another as though they were both petrified at the thought of being separated.

With her eyes flickering all over Gray's terrified yet expectant face, Claire found herself without words. Hell, what she was feeling within her heart, mind, and soul was beyond words. Over and over she opened her mouth to say something, something momentous or meaningful, but found that his confession had left her entirely dumbstruck.

"Wait…what?"

"I… I tried, okay? I asked them a thousand goddess damned times to be normal. To try for once and not mess everything up. I tried to get them to be nice and behave and not scare you, because I know you don't like being around people, but you're important to me, so I needed them to see that, too, but they all turned it into a joke. Like it's fucking funny or something to scare you away and ruin shit. I tried, baby. I swear I fuckin' tried. They're always like that, and I hate it, but they are."

"Scare me?" Claire's brows pushed together. "What are you talking about?"

"I just don't want you to leave me because they're idiots!"

"I'm… what?" Her chest tightened even more. "_Leave_ you? Over that?"

"I know you don't like people. Especially crazy ones like my family…it's like they can't control it. Since… mom passed, holidays have always gone wrong. It…"

Her heart constricted.

The fact that he'd thought things over so thoroughly struck her. He was protective over her like nothing else. He was afraid that the way others behaved would or could have affected them to the point of her breaking things off.

Gray was vulnerable. He was insecure and open and dependent upon her.

She'd never had anything like that with another human being. Vulnerability and fear _because_ of her instead of _from_ her.

"I'm no good for you, baby," he said miserably. "I hate that I've caused trouble, and that you've had to defend yourself against the people who should be happy for you. I have issues, I'm an angry fucker, and I have a terrible temper. I still have shit that I need to tell you about myself, and I have no idea where to start because I'm scared shitless that you'll run from me, and I know that makes me a selfish bastard for expecting you not to when I know that's the best thing for you to do."

A small whimper escaped Claire's throat as her mind began to clear and Gray's words started to settle into every inch of her body, jolting her heart like a damned defibrillator. She realized that she was holding her breath when her lungs began to burn.

"Gray, I-..."

"Wait," he interrupted, breathless. He was so close that Claire had to lift her head to look at him, her eyes leveled with the sharp edge of his jaw.

"Just...please...baby...I want..." He exhaled in frustration. "I want to do the right thing. I know that I should walk away. I know that you deserve better. I know all of that, baby. But the truth is...the truth is..."

Claire closed her eyes, swaying towards him. "What?"

She shivered when she felt his ice-cold hand cup her neck and move tenderly to her cheek.

"The truth is, Claire," he whispered, his lips by her ear. "I'm scared. I'm so damned scared to mess things up."

Claire clutched his forearm, leaned her head on his bicep, and released a soft, pained sound of relief.

"You thought you'd scare me off with your family?"

He shrugged.

"I thought you'd leave me if your family didn't like me," she admitted.

Gray snorted, "Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Hey," she sniffled.

"You're insane."

"Look who's talking," she kissed his arm. "Just because I'm not good around people, doesn't mean… Gray, they're your family. No matter how they act."

"They act like idiots."

She shrugged, "They enjoy themselves. That's not a bad thing."

"Why've you gotta be so calm about this, huh?" he nudged her face over to meet his. "You make me look crazy for trying to do things right for you."

She nuzzled their noses together. "I appreciate the things you do for me. It's more than I could ever ask for."

"You don't ask for much," he kissed her.

"You do enough for the both of us," Claire rubbed his biceps again. "Please don't freak out on your family anymore because of how you think I feel. I'll tell you if something's wrong, but I don't want you to have to change for me."

"Yeah? You don't know what you're asking for."

"No?"

"Not a chance. You ever seen those educational shows where the lions just fuckin' go for that deer?"

"Gazelle."

"Shit's what'll happen to you."

Claire smiled and rolled her eyes, "What ever happened to you protecting me?"

"I'm just saying, baby, those people are wild animals. You never know what the heck they're gonna do."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Gray goosed her and laughed when she yelped. "Tease."

"Just being honest."

"And I'm sorry tonight wasn't all that great."

She kissed his chin. "It's fine."

"We could make it better." The innuendo in his tone would have been borderline humorous if he wasn't staring at her with such hooded, lustful eyes.

"By star gazing like we're supposed to?" her voice broke halfway through.

He hummed into her cheeks and started focusing on kissing her rosy skin. "I could make you see stars."

She looked up at him and shook her head in wonder. "You are so…"

"So what?" he brushed their lips together and pulled back a few inches. "Perfect? Handsome? Charming? You pick, baby."

"Sexy."

Gray rolled his eyes and smirked as he dropped his head back to hers. "I know," he mumbled into her neck. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Claire whispered.

"If you think I'm sexy," Gray mused as his hands rubbed over her ass and up to squeeze her waist. "Does that mean I can have my way with you in bed all night?"

Claire laughed loudly, making Gray smile. It was the most amazing sound to him and she looked gorgeous doing it, too.

"Sexy and romantic," she sniggered. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Dunno," Gray replied noncommittally as he went to work once again on her cheeks. "But it must have been something fairly fucking spectacular."

He suddenly felt her hand run gently across the side of his face as she whispered: "No doubt."

Gray looked up at her and what he saw made his heart stutter. Her eyes were bright and shining and her lips were swollen and red from their kisses and the cold. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wild from the mass of windblown curls. She was breathtaking.

"What?" she asked softly as he moved them backwards, his eyes burning into hers.

He kissed her soundly, pulling away as her tongue flicked at his mouth.

"You're just…" Gray shook his head and blew a breath through his pursed lips. "You…you just make me feel so fucking good."

Claire smiled up at him and cupped his face. "Good."

Gray bent down and kissed her again. He could never get enough of her. "We need to get back to your place."

Her heart raced, "No star-gazing?"

"Next year."

Her heart tensed at the thought of a next year. It was terrifying that he'd still be around, but it was the most amazing thing to imagine. Gray was such a beautiful thing in her life. Claire knew she had no reason to expect him in the future because she had done nothing to deserve him.

He was nothing but passionate and protective over her. They way he was looking at her now proved that, and instead of making her feel nervous or used, it made her hot and bothered all over.

It suddenly didn't feel like they were outside in below zero temperatures.

"Alright," she whispered, voice rough and shaky.

Gray looked so sure. He was absolute with her. He didn't doubt or hesitate.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them forward. Their old footsteps led them back through the woods. Claire's gaze wandered up to the highly reflective stars that made the snow sparkle in the dead of night.

It was really beautiful outside. The sky was overloaded with twinkling, silver stars that beamed and playing with shadows on the ground. The sight made her shiver.

"You cold?"

Claire shrugged, "Sort of."

"Did I tell you, you look beautiful tonight?"

She hid her smile by looking down, "Yes."

He kept his eyes down on her and admired the way her golden hair gleamed against the stars. Tonight was just as much of a scare for him as it was for her. He knew she worried over meeting his grandfather. Gray didn't blame her – the man was one mean S.O.B. with no filter.

However, Saibara had a soft spot for a handful of things. Claire was one of them. Gray swore the old man had x-ray vision into people's souls. He could have been pushy and judgmental like Claire feared, but he was soft-spoken and gentle. If Gray didn't know better, he'd swear the old geezer charmed Claire.

Gray reached in his coat pocket and lit up a cigarette.

Tonight was insane. He wanted Claire to be as comfortable as possible for doing the whole thing for him. He knew if Claire had her way, they'd have been cuddled on the couch all night.

His family was a pack of idiots, but they were still family. He loved them. Hell, if Ann _were_ pregnant, it'd just add to the crazy.

When Rick screamed that she was, Gray's first reaction was to beat Cliff's ass. He'd have pummeled the vagabond into the ground, but Claire was there. There was no way he was going to add the crazy when he wanted to make it all go away.

Ann's possible pregnancy also made him uneasy in the back of his mind. His youngest sibling was starting a family.

Gray took a long drag and blew into the sky. He picked Claire up to help her over a log and flicked the dead end of his smoke off.

Ann wasn't ready to be a mom. She was more fucked up than he was.

He was sure as hell not changing any diapers. He'd be damned if he had to wake up and burp the thing.

"Hey," Gray sucked in smoke. "If Ann's really having a baby, I'm living with you."

She laughed, and goose bumps ran up his arm. "Don't want to be an uncle?"

"Don't wanna stay up all night with a crying spawn of Ann."

"You're welcome over any time," she confirmed. "Are you okay with Ann being possibly pregnant?"

"No," he huffed smoke out. "But what the hell am I gonna do, ya know?"

She muttered something small under her breath that he didn't catch, but he didn't ask about it. He killed the cigarette in the snow as they made it back on a main trail. "The stars do look nice tonight."

Claire nodded.

He sucked in the a large breath of cold air, "My ma loved this day."

"Tell me about her."

"I feel like I already have."

She shrugged, "Tell me more."

His grip on her tightened and he kissed her hair. "Some other time. I don't wanna think about my mom when I got you on my side looking as good as you do."

She rolled her eyes, "Such a caveman."

"I'll show you a caveman." Gray scooped her up in his arms and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She cried out and clutched onto his thick coat as best she could with gloves on. He smacked her butt and started running.

"G-Gray!" Claire shouted. She kicked his stomach and hit his back. "Put me down!"

"We're taking too long!"

Claire screeched as the ride got rocky and focused more on holding on than fighting him off. He was crazy. She had to accept that sooner or later.

And he was very much male, his hand still groping her butt and the other clutching the inside of her thigh.

The contact sent tingles through her, and her breathing hitched with his. Gray sprinted through the dark as she bounced along.

"Homestretch!"

She laughed and cried out as he charged. He carried them the last dozen yards and nearly hit the front door.

"Is it locked?"

"Probably!"

He cursed her and she laughed. Instead of letting her go, he rummaged through her pockets. It tickled and she squirmed.

"Motherfuckers," he complained. "Baby, if you don't tell me where the hell the damn keys are, your bare ass is gonna freeze out here tonight."

She squealed. "Check my pants!"

"That's the freakin' plan."

The innuendos fell without shame from Gray, but he reached in and searched for the cold metal. When he latched onto the keys, he pulled them out and opened the door so fast, Claire swore it was record time.

"Now," he took them over to her bedroom door. "You get comfy and Caveman Gray will start the fire."

"Thanks," she blushed. He kissed her soundly before pushing her in and shutting the door behind him. She listened to his heavy boots cross the house for a while.

She flicked a lamp on and slowly unzipped and crawled out of her jacket and gloves.

She sat on the bed, but nerves got to her and she shot back up and went to the mirror. Her curls were wild and voluminous, and her makeup was worn down. She admired the way her cheeks flourished with color and her eyes were bigger than usual. It distracted from the bags underneath. The bruise she had two weeks ago was faded and only slightly yellowed.

Gray had the effect on her. He made her feel alive and young. He did it so easily. It was a natural thing to enjoy herself with him.

And now he wanted her. Really wanted her.

Her heart caught in her throat.

It had been a long time since she'd been with a man. Her first and only happened when she was seventeen. That was long ago.

Could she satisfy him? Did she know what to do? Her first time definitely proved she couldn't.

Goddess, she felt like a teenager all over again. What an awful feeling.

What a great feeling.

Her skin felt like it was crawling from the erratic goose bumps falling and rising everywhere.

Calm down, she told herself. It's only Gray.

Claire fluffed her hair and paced the room. She was awful at this. It was new to her all over again, and she was surprisingly not afraid. Gray wasn't someone to fear. He was a big, soft teddy bear around the right people. Around her.

It was herself that Claire worried about. She hoped he'd be satisfied with her. She hoped she was good enough. She never was.

Her heart sank. What was she doing with another human being, expressing and opening herself like this? How could she be vulnerable?

The bedroom door opened and she hugged herself tightly. Gray came in as confident and cocky as ever. He wore a stupid, silly smirk that was contagious. Both his coat and boots were gone.

His hands left his pants pockets, and he got so close to her that their clothes gain static.

He said nothing as he grabbed her face and bent down to kiss her. It was slow and erotic, and it made her heart burst with a crazy fire.

She leaned into him and hooked her arms around her neck, and he dragged them to a wall. He loomed over her and took a deep breath inside her mouth, stealing her air.

Gray was suddenly frantic for more of her mouth, her taste, and crushed his lips hard against hers, forcing his tongue inside. She moaned loudly and pulled his hair, holding him closer. _Yes._ He pulled at her sweater and pulled it over her head, mourning the few seconds that her lips weren't pressing against his as he did.

Her pale blue bra was next to go. More.

He shrugged out of his own shirt and flung it far, far away.

Claire tucked her hands behind her back as Gray's teeth slid across her collarbone, and unhooked it, pulling it from her body, and throwing onto the floor with their shirts.

"Fuck," Gray groaned as he looked down at her perfect chest that he had gotten to feel so well the nights before. They were erect and stunning, and reacted instantly as Gray's thumbs caressed them.

"Oh God," Claire murmured as he did it again. Her head lolled back: elegant and beautiful.

"You like that?" Gray asked softly as he kissed her again. She nodded and gripped his shoulders. Her nails dug into him and he grunted in pleasure. "Goddess, I want you, baby." His hands grabbed both of her breasts, roughly; kneading the soft skin while her nipples puckered in his palms.

"Yes," she answered in a breathless gasp. "Please. I need you so much. Gray. Please."

He pushed her hair from her face as it bounced down her nose, "Just you and me."

He cupped her face, rubbing at the sensitive skin under her eyes and kissed her softly. Her hands held onto his forearms securely as she let him lead it. Gray tried to rein his desire in, fuck, he tried so damn hard, but all too quickly, the fire between them began to strengthen, their passion for each igniting into flames, and their tongues were soon tangled from one mouth to the other.

Flicking. Licking. Tasting.

With an animalistic growl that sounded like her name, Gray bent down, gripping her thighs, and picked Claire up; smiling against her mouth as her legs and arms wrapped firmly around him.

So familiar. So right.

He gripped Claire's bottom and groaned when her chest slid against his as he moved.

Without any stumbling this time, Gray carried her through her room and to the bed, and kneeled gently, laying her down, and spreading his weight protectively across her. Their mouths seemed incapable of disconnecting. He let his hands roam across her skin, up her sides, across her breasts, to her neck and stomach as they panted and moaned between crumpled lips.

"Claire…fuck, baby."

Unable to resist any longer, Gray's mouth eventually followed the path of his hands: hungry and wanting more of her body. He licked where the heat that had collected on her sternum and returned to sucking her nipples. He growled as Claire arched, and he jerked his hips firmly against hers as she grabbed at his backside.

He bit the underneath of her right breast and she yelped before moaning in pleasure.

"More," she whimpered into his hair. "Please, Gray. More."

"Anything," he moaned as his hand dropped quickly, frantically, to the button on her jeans and pushed it through. "You're mine," Gray insisted as he sat forward with Claire still on his lap. "You're fucking mine, Claire. My woman," he leaned her back and buried his nose in her sweater, making her moan. "Say it."

"Yours," Claire purred as she rubbed her face into his hair.

"Don't forget that, baby. I'm the only one, who makes you feel this way; who gets to have you and touch you this way. No one is allowed to do this but me."

Claire gazed at him, and caressed his cheek once again. She nodded. "I want you so much. Don't stop. I…I need you."

He could see it in her eyes and he lost himself in the weightless feeling that that realization brought him. "I know," he replied gruffly.

He pushed the tip of his finger against the seam of her jeans between her legs and grunted when she bucked in his arms.

She lifted her hips and he pulled her jeans down. He let his knuckles graze softly along her thighs and calves as he did, and laughed quickly when he got to her ankles and remembered that she still had her boots on.

"Sorry," she giggled sexily as he began to untie them.

"No problem," he replied, kissing her ankle as he removed one boot and sock, and then the other.

Finally free of any obstacles, after Claire's boots had been thrown dismissively across her room, Gray yanked her jeans all the way off and kneeled on the edge of the bed as he took her in. Goddess, she was breathtaking. Feminine. Sexy. Gorgeous. Her skin was pale and unblemished, and looked as soft as he knew it felt under his fingertips. She was wearing small blue cotton panties that hugged her curvaceous hips like a second skin, and, he could just make out, around the edges of the elastic, that she was bare. Praise the Goddess.

His manhood twitched and wept, causing Gray to moan low in his throat. Fuck's sake, he hadn't even touched her there yet and he was about ready to shatter.

"Gray," Claire whispered in concern. She lifted up onto her forearms and caught his eye with a dip of her chin. "If you don't want to do this…I understand after…what I said, and did…I…"

Gray swallowed her words with a hungry mouth and a tongue that wanted to taste every fucking inch of her and then some.

"I want," he groaned into her mouth. "I really fucking want." His hand slid down her small waist, to her hip, and played with the side of her panties: hesitating. "Can I…can I touch you, Claire?"

Her blush was vibrant. "Yes," she purred as she bit his bottom lip.

"Goddess," he tucked his hand under the cotton of her panties and ran his knuckles down her womanhood.

Claire hummed as she collapsed back onto the bed, pulling Gray down with her, "For you."

As though her words were kerosene on a fire, Gray's fingertips pushed frantically up between her lips in search of her button. He hit it with his thumb first, and grunted. _So swollen._ They both moaned into each other's mouths at the contact, and Gray found himself biting his own lip as Claire began grinding against his hand. She looked so hot.

"Ohhhh," she whimpered as he touched her.

Gray's index finger moved down her, and slipped easily against the moisture that lay there. Closing his eyes at the feeling, he nibbled Claire's shoulder and breathed heavily against her skin. The tip of his finger circled her entrance teasingly, garnering a sigh from Claire and a look that told him that she needed this as much as he did. Gray was entranced by her fluid movements and the husky sounds that rumbled from her throat and, and without a moment's hesitation; he slipped a finger right inside of her.

Warm. Wet. Transcendent. _Oh, Goddess._

"Ugh!" she cried out as he began moving his finger slowly in and out of her, right up the damn knuckle, "Uh! Yes!"

"Yes?" he asked as he dropped his head and circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Claire nodded and grunted in reply, gripping his shoulders. "Does my finger feel good in you, baby?"

Her eyes widened at his words. "Uh huh," she moaned while winding her hips around in a sharp, desperate figure of eight. "More."

With a smug-ass smirk, Gray gently pushed another finger into her and immediately upped the speed at which they were pleasuring her. Claire cried out and her hands pulled his hair, hard. Gray closed his eyes and listened to the wet noises that filled the room as he pumped his hand against her and feasted greedily on her luscious chest. It was the sexiest symphony he had ever heard.

His thumb found her once more, and another finger started to creep up inside of her. Gray was all too aware of just how small Claire was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her, but, _fuck_, he wanted so much of himself inside of her all at once that he couldn't stop. He kept his eyes on her face as he pushed. Gently. Carefully. _Holy fuck._

That third finger felt _really fucking_ tight.

Claire's back arched into a perfect 'C' shape, and a long guttural groan erupted from her chest as Gray began to rub her and pump his curled fingers as she enveloped him. She was swollen, soaked and burning.

Goddess, she was beautiful as she bucked and thrashed. _More._ Gray's bicep tensed and his fingers pushed even further into her. Harder. Faster.

He wanted that orgasm. He wanted to hear it. Taste it. Smell it. Own it. _Mine._

"Gray," Claire pleaded as she grabbed for him. "Oh…I'm uh, uh…"

"That's it, baby," he panted as he licked her throat, tasting the salty tang of her sweat. "Give it up. Give me it all, Claire! I want it." He nibbled her earlobe, tasting apricot and candy. "Fuck, you feel so good around my fingers." He licked her jaw: honey. "Fuck, baby…your taste" He sucked her breast hard into his mouth: vanilla. "I can't wait to be inside of you."

"OH!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Gray felt Claire's walls start to squeeze around his fingers. _Fuck yes._

Desperate for her to orgasm, Gray began slamming them into her; rubbing and curling.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as she gripped his hair, and crushed her mouth to his. "I'm…ah…it's, oh, Gray!"

"That's it!" Gray cried with her as she came: pulsing, and twitching, and flailing under him, "To all that's fuckin' holy, baby."

She crushed her lips to his, whimpering into his mouth.

Gray held her down with his free hand splayed across her stomach as she hit against his chest. "Dammit," Gray murmured as Claire continued to writhe, "So wet. So wet. "

The wetness on his fingers increased tenfold, and he allowed his hand to slide and tease as she panted and whispered into his neck. Her words were low and jumbled, but the shudder in her body told Gray all he needed to know: he'd made her release really good.

Even though he hadn't been touched, Gray felt spent as Claire climaxed and glowed beneath him. He gradually slowed his hand and kissed across her collarbone, up towards her jaw. Her pulse was racing and her chest was dipping and rising like the sea. She was resplendent.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he placed a gentle kiss on her open mouth. She laughed and clutched a hand to her chest. Her eyes were closed but he could see them moving under her lids.

"That was…" she blew a breath out between her lips and opened one eye to look at him. "Ugh, Gray, your hands are genius."

That, Gray had to laugh at. "Why thank you," he growled as he pulled his hand out of her panties and wiggled his fingers in front of her. "That was so fucking hot, Claire."

He exhaled loudly, expectantly, as he felt her hands move gradually down his body, outlining the grooves of his muscled stomach and the hair below his belly button. When they finally reached the buttons of his fly, Claire's hand cupped his manhood through the denim of his jeans, and rubbed up his full length, hard and slow.

"Shit," Gray snarled as his back curved and his hips lifted eagerly to meet her incredible palm. "Goddess damn it, baby."

It felt insanely erotic, having her rub him the way that she was, knowing that he was naked underneath and that her hand could be wrapped around him in mere seconds; stroking and making him beg. Holy shit, he would beg. He would beg her for fucking anything.

Claire kept up the movement of her hand: up and down, gripping and rubbing, purring and sighing and feathering his chest with kisses. Gray's abdomen began to tense and twist in warning.

"Baby," he panted as she lapped hungrily at his nipple.

"Hmm?" Her teeth grazed his skin.

Fuck. Her mouth.

Gray hissed. "You're…you're gonna make me… if you…if you keep that shit up."

She smiled up at him and grabbed his cock tighter, making him groan. "And that's…bad?"

"Right now it is, yeah," he replied as he took a hold of her face and pulled her mouth roughly to his: hot and hungry. "I'd much rather be inside you when that shit happens," he whispered against her lips.

Her breathing hitched.

With wide, excited eyes, Claire looked down at his button fly, and began to pop each one open, slowly, cautiously. Gray closed his own eyes in anticipation, and licked his lips. Oh, the taste of her. He would have to bury his face in her before long.

Fisting the bed sheets, he waited for her hands to finished teasing; waited for the softness of her palm against him. It would feel so damn good. He rotated his hips impatiently, in desperate need of some friction.

The thought sent a shiver down Gray's spine. "So fuckin' hard for you," he whispered. He wanted her to devour him, to overwhelm him, intensely, desperately – but, he had to be sure.

He moved onto the bed completely with her and sat up, taking Claire by surprise, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his mouth to hers. "We don't have to, baby," he murmured as he rubbed her nose with his, in a gesture that he hoped was reassuring.

He pulled his face back and pushed her still-curly hair away from her face. "I want you. But I want it to be right. I want it to be perfect."

Her face softened and a small moan slipped out of her mouth. "It will be, Gray," she sighed. "We're meant to be this way. Do you not feel that?"

"Baby," he said incredulously as he kissed the tip of her small shoulder. "I felt it from the very first moment I saw you."

She cupped his face and looked deep into him. "So don't be afraid," she encouraged. "Just be with me. Just you and me."

And they kissed.

Gray shoved his undone jeans and boxers off in one movement and put her back under him. He trailed new kisses down her and mutter some sweet, very Gray adjectives.

Claire moaned and grabbed at him as he lathered the skin of her hip with his lips and tongue, and, by the time he reached her stomach, and his tongue was in her belly button, she was heaving under him and dragging his face up towards her mouth.

"Gray," she groaned as he resisted her impatient hands. "Stop teasing."

He chuckled into her right breast and squeezed her left one. "Do you want me?" he growled as he moved over her, and flicked at her lips with his tongue.

"You know I do," she answered as her hands grabbed his ass; nipping the skin with her nails.

"Fuck. That feels good," he muttered into her neck as she did it again.

"Good." She lifted her legs up to her sides, and rested her heels on his lower back.

Gray hissed and leaned his head back as the tip of him brushed her wetness. Her heat was extraordinary. His hands cupped the sides of her face and he moved his lips across hers: languid and worshipful.

Dammit, he couldn't wait to be in her. He moved his hips minutely. _Yes, so deep, wet, tight and…_

_Oh, hell._

He dropped his face onto her shoulder with a heavy thump, and yelled loudly into her skin as his hips retreated from her and his cock rested heavy and useless on her thigh.

"Gray?" Claire asked nervously as her hands rubbed down his back.

Gray smacked his hand down on the mattress by Claire's head, ready to throw himself under a bus, or a cab, or both, and lifted his head while avoiding her gaze.

"Claire…" he fumed as he looked at the pillow above her head. "I…fuck it, baby…I don't have any condoms."

And why would he have? He'd been alone for seasons.

He finally looked at her to see that her face didn't look half as disappointed as he had imagined his did at that moment.

"Oh," was her genius reply.

Gray grimaced and sighed. "I could…I could go out and get some," he offered, even though he didn't want to move from the exact spot that he was in. _Like, ever._

"Claire?" he asked, in confusion. She was looking nervous, and she was definitely blushing. "What is it?"

"Well, I…" She cleared her throat and started to make small circles on his shoulder with her fingertip. "I'm, um…I am covered, I mean, you know…on the pill, and I'm clean…so…"

Gray's cock thickened even further as her words sank into his brain and he realized what she was offering.

Bareback. Pure, unadulterated Claire.

_Fuck me_, Gray thought.

"And you have to go for your checkups, right?" she asked to which he nodded like a mute idiot. "So, we know you're clean. And I…I trust you. That is…if you trust me?"

She looked adorably uneasy as she finished her sentence and her eyes were suddenly everywhere but on Gray's face. He lifted her chin and kissed her gently.

"I am clean," he said as his eyes flickered between hers. "And I do trust you." He kissed both of her cheeks. "With my life," he added quietly. "But I'll only do this if you're sure, Claire."

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she gently pressed her heels right back into his ass, and lifted her hips to his.

"I'm really, really sure," she smiled as Gray moaned and shifted back to his original position.

The tip of him was sliding along her, and, holy shit, he was suddenly fighting the natural urge to just slam straight into her.

"Oh, Goddess," Claire whimpered into his mouth as she felt him tense against her. "I want to feel every inch of you."

With a loud groan, Gray kissed her with everything he had, and moved his arms underneath her; gripping her shoulders so that she was anchored to him, crushing her to him. He needed to be anchored to something for fear that he would lose his damn mind when he put himself inside of her.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, feeling his lungs squeeze when she nodded and stroked his face.

"Yes," she said tenderly. She pressed her lips to his. "I'm not afraid."

"You're so beautiful," Gray breathed as their foreheads met. _You're everything_.

He knew that he should have said something more profound, but all he could think was that he had never ever felt like he did at that moment with anyone else in his entire life. It didn't seem enough. It wasn't enough for her.

Keeping his eyes on hers and breathing heavily, Gray waited as he felt Claire's small hand around him, guiding him towards her heat. Once she released him and smiled, Gray pushed forward slowly, and the tip of him slipped into her. Perfectly. Beautifully.

Oh, Claire.

They both groaned at the sensation and Claire's hips jerked wildly. Gray held her shoulders tightly as he opened his mouth against hers; breathing and gasping while she did the same back, all hot breath and moist lips. Claire mewed and closed her eyes tightly as Gray pushed a little more: slick, warmth.

"Fuck," he grunted into her cheek as Claire bowed under him when - unable to stop himself - he pushed harder, sliding further, until his hips were flush with hers, and he was fully sheathed within her. "Fuck."

Claire cried out loudly, and tightened her thighs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "Oh, Goddess," she moaned and kissed Gray's throat as his head fell back in utter ecstasy.

"Oh, baby," he mumbled as his eyes rolled. "You feel…ah, you feel…I…I…"

"I know," she replied as she pulled his face to hers. "Perfect."

Yes, it was, and Gray could do nothing but bask in the feeling of having Claire all around him. Finally.

"Move in me."

Leaning his head close to hers, watching her face as it twisted and contorted magnificently, Gray pulled his hips back bit by bit before pushing back into her. A shaky moan rumbled through him at the concentration it took to not pump his hips too hard. He pulled back again, feeling her muscles grip and caress the entire length of him. _It was fucking sublime._

"Oh, yeah," he rasped against her collarbone.

Running his hand down from her shoulder to her hip, Gray continued with long, deliberate, patient strokes as his mouth began to devour the woman in his arms. Claire was equally hungry for Gray's mouth as she sucked on his lips - first the top and then the bottom - as he moved in her.

"Give me that fucking tongue, baby," Gray demanded as he pushed into her. "I want to taste it. I want to taste my baby."

Claire whimpered as she pushed her breasts up towards him, rubbing her nipples against his chest. She stuck out her tongue, curling the tip of it, beckoning him, and, within seconds, Gray was feasting on her, hollowing out his cheeks so he could take as much of her in as he could. She tasted so good. He moaned, sending vibrations through her mouth.

"Oh," she moaned as he rotated his hips slowly at the same time.

He sucked along her tongue like a Popsicle, before finally releasing her with a groan. Her face was spectacular as he thrust himself deeply into her. Her brow furrowed above her dark lustful eyes, and her lips pursed. Gray could see a small sprinkling of sweat on her cheeks that almost sparkled when the light from the doorway hit her.

"Feel good?" Gray panted, as he licked her neck up to her ear and pushed into her again.

Claire bit her lip and nodded quickly before she lifted her hips to meet his firmly, making Gray grunt. He had never been that vocal during sex before, but damn, no sex had ever felt this good before.

She whimpered and knotted her fingers into his skin.

Gray murmured into her hair, "I love being inside of you, baby."

"Yes. Oh, Goddess. Can you go faster?"

"Mhmm," he replied with a sharp shove that made Claire's breath catch and her body rise. "But if I do, I won't be able to stop." Gray felt her wetness start to cling to his length, "It…fucking dammit, baby." He glanced down between their bodies to watch himself move in her. He groaned and twitched at the sight. "You…feel too good."

He moved his right arm from her hip and grabbed a hold of her thigh, pushing her leg up further so that her knee was near his shoulder. The angle must have been a real good one because the moan that left her was stunning.

"Oh yes," she breathed, "Right there."

"There?" Gray asked in between deep loud pants. "You want it right there, Claire?"

"Uh huh."

He pushed harder and his eyes nearly dropped from their sockets when he slipped even deeper inside of her.

"Shit," he hissed as his hips began to move faster. "Fuck, that's deep."

"Yes. Don't stop."

Gray smirked inwardly because he was pretty darn certain that wild horses wouldn't have been able to stop him.

"Does it feel good?" he asked as his mouth latched onto her neck where he began sucking and licking.

"Yes. Yes."

"Fucking right it does," he moaned and thrust twice - quickly and hard - making Claire's back lift from the bed. "Ah…shit."

"Oh…Gray," Claire grunted as she held him closely, her nails were making deep grooves into the flesh of his back as she moved with him, but he couldn't have given a shit. He wanted her to mark him. He wanted her brand on him.

He pumped faster at the thought.

"Claire," he groaned as his hips slapped the back of her thighs, hard. "I…I want…oh, fuck." The feel of her around him, her sounds and smells were too much. He was starting to lose himself and he didn't know whether to feel elated or scared to death.

"Anything," Claire answered as she bit his earlobe, seemingly sensing his panic. "Have anything."

"I need….uh, harder," he breathed as he released her other shoulder and placed his palm on the mattress by her head, "Baby, I want you…harder."

Claire smiled up at him and ran her hand through his hair. "You can do anything with me, Gray."

All he could do was groan and curse in reply. His chin dropped to his chest, making his breathing sound even louder. He wanted more. Oh, did he want more. Deeper. Wetter. Harder. Faster. But he didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't hurt his girl.

He rotated his hips and slammed into her again. Claire yelled out, and scratched his chest. "Again," she cried as she pushed her face into his shoulder. So he did, and it was amazing.

Gray could feel his body start to heat from the inside out as his thrusts became firm and sure. "I…can't hurt…you," he struggled as his eyes shut of their own accord.

His body no longer felt like his own. It belonged to her. Every atom, every molecule, every bead of sweat that was starting to cover his body, every gasp, every moan, belonged to her.

He was sucking in air through his teeth and he could feel every muscle in his body scream for release. The bed covers that he had in his hand were just about ready to rip he was gripping them so hard, and the headboard of the bed had begun to tap solidly against the wall.

He flew upright, his knees holding his weight as he pulled Claire's body flush against his, her chest crushed between them, gripping her by the hip and shoulder, and began pounding into her as hard as he could. Deep, powerful strokes that made Claire scream. She was clawing at him as his mouth bit and smothered as much of her as he was able, while the cries filled the room until the walls could barely contain them.

He was so hard that it was borderline painful, but Gray simply couldn't stop loving the beautiful woman in his arms. He didn't want to stop. He wanted this forever. He wanted her forever. He wanted to have this moment on loop for the rest of his life.

Her taste.

Her smell.

The small cries of pleasure that she was breathing in his ear. The shouts for more and the sounds of hard, wet loving.

"You like that?" he gasped as their mouths met again, teeth and tongues everywhere at once. "You like me in you, Claire?"

She nodded frantically. "Don't stop. More. More, Gray!"

And then Gray felt it.

Deep in his stomach as his muscles tightened again, and his thighs took on a life of their own.

He was done for.

He tried to tell her. "Clai-…uh, uh…fuuuuck, gonna make, you're gonna..." But it was useless.

Claire merely held onto him and rode every thrust, and took every plunge, holding him as tightly as she could. She knew that's what he needed. Gray buried his face into her hair and grunted in synch with the delicious sound of slapping skin.

"Shit…ah, Claire!"

But then, suddenly, Claire's body changed.

She became almost rigid in his arms, and her muscles squeezed every inch of him like a vice.

"Oh, Goddess," her eyes looked at Gray in total surprise, "Oh, Goddess. Don't stop," she moaned. "It's…it's right there. Oh. _Oh_."

Yes, baby.

Gray clenched his teeth; willing his orgasm to hold off. This was what he had dreamed about: Claire, in his arms, all over him. And he'd be damned if he'd miss a second of it.

Claire's head fell back and her hips swiveled, seeking out any kind of friction. Gray's thumb was immediately rubbing her, flicking pleasure out of her. She was so slick and Gray gasped out her name.

"Baby, please," he begged as he bit down on her shoulder. "Please."

"So close," she moaned, "Oh, _so close_."

"What…fuck, baby, what can I do?" Gray urged as his thrusts started to become sloppy and out of rhythm. "Dammit, baby, tell me."

Claire lifted her head. Her eyes were hooded, dark, and full of passion. "Kiss me."

So he did. With his nose crushed against her face, Gray smashed his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue in and out; in her in every way possible.

He felt her response almost instantly. Her arms tightened around his neck, and her legs jerked at his sides as her thighs held his waist in a bone-crushing grip.

"Yes. Yes," Gray growled as he tried like hell to keep his erratic pace without blowing his load.

"I'm…uh…_oh, oh_." Claire's head fell back and Gray watched her as she took a huge breath and cried out at the top of her lungs as her orgasm smashed into her, "Gray!"

At the sound of his name ripping from Claire's lungs, Gray's spine snapped, his throat opened, and, with a deafening roar, he released inside of her with such force that he lost his balance and toppled over, landing onto Claire's small body with a loud grunt.

Waves of euphoric release crashed over him, leaving him breathless, groaning, and crying out for his Claire as she sighed and mumbled unintelligible words into his sweat covered neck and shoulder.

Nothing. Nothing had ever felt that good. Nothing would ever come close. No woman would ever come that close. With a strange feeling of contentment as he rode the best orgasm of his life, Gray realized that he had been ruined. Claire had ruined him. He was in ruins because of her; for her. And he couldn't have been happier.

"Goddess….fuckin'…oh…Claire."

Gray slowly returned to Earth, not entirely sure that all his limbs were attached and in working order. He did realize quickly, however, that his full weight was pressing Claire hard into his bed. He made to lift off of her on shaking arms and knees, but she held him fast, crushing him to her chest.

"Not yet," she murmured into his hair. "Don't leave me yet. Just stay a while longer."

Gray didn't have the energy to argue. "Mmkay," he managed into the pillow at the side of her head.

Gray's eyes rolled closed and he exhaled down his nose in contentment. Their tongues touched briefly, tenderly and Gray's lips were still moving when she pulled away. His eyes fluttered open to see her gazing adoringly at him. His heart halted for one beat.

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, Gray shifted down Claire's body and rested his ear against her damp chest, smiling when he heard her own heart thumping quickly behind her ribs.

Her fingers moved leisurely from his shoulders into his hair, and she began stroking and massaging his scalp. He was almost asleep when he heard her whisper his name.

"Gray?"

His spine tingled.

"Yeah?"

She gripped his hair gently, and took a deep breath. "Thank you," she breathed.

He frowned in confusion. "What for?" he asked quietly. She didn't reply or move.

"Baby?" he asked nervously. He lifted his head and rested his chin on her sternum as he looked up at her. "Sweetheart, what are you thanking me for?"

Claire looked back at him, her eyes filled with so much emotion that a lone tear slipped down her temple.

She swallowed hard before answering him, "For everything."

* * *

_My lemons are strong and sour. I did warn you guys._

_Thank you for the wonderful and uplifting reviews._

_Please Review._


End file.
